Shadows Follow Me Down
by incense and peppermints
Summary: Julia Randle has come a long way in the past few months, but seventh grade isn't over yet. Sequel to Inescapable Reality and Landslide. In Progress.
1. Father of the Year: Part 1

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

This is Inescapable Reality's sequel. You could probably read out of order, but you'd probably be less confused if you read Landslide and Inescapable Reality. The future sequel (Before I Fall) can be read whenever the hell you feel like it.

* * *

_Thursday, January 5th, 1967_

I never felt like more of a JD than I did now the way my teachers talked about me, and the worst part was it was bullshit.

I never hurt somebody. Never stole or vandalized a damn thing either. I'd done _nothing_ that had ever earned my brother the same title. My only crime was this: I kicked off the new year flunking every subject, and my attitude—What attitude? The only attitude I was aware of was the hell I gave that substitute detention teacher for accusing me of talking sweet to Leslie—was making me "increasingly difficult to manage." I didn't _care_ about anything they wanted me to do. I was_ careless _about my schoolwork. Mrs. Fox headed up this argument, of course. She headed up the "she's going to repeat a grade" argument too. Her shrill voice still wrung in my ears from when she demanded my presence at their after school meeting. _There's no way you can make up all the time you missed if you keep it up, _she said. _You are bound to repeat seventh grade. _What I wanted to know was why I needed to be here if they'd already made up their minds.

They'd called my father here for the special occasion, too, and he could hardly speak he was so livid. He'd even bothered to clean himself up—face, shaved; clothes, washed and ironed. I should be proud of him, but all I could think about was this could damn well be the last hour of my life, and here he was dressed like he was preparing to give my eulogy.

I sighed and tapped my fingers against my knees. He sat with his arms crossed, just nodding at everything they said, but each word brought a new shade of red to his face, and when he spoke, I couldn't bear to watch. I sunk my face in my hands.

"Maybe she missed a lot of school. I can't deny that, you got your proof on paper right there, but you can't tell me she ain't—_isn't _smart enough to make it up."

I looked up. He sounded like he was trying real hard to sound professional, but when he scooted his chair closer to mine and extended his arm around me, I knew what he'd meant to say was, "Fuck you for thinking she can't."

He wasn't mad at me, he was mad at _them_. I didn't know what to say. Maybe I wasn't crying on the outside, but on the inside I was bawling like crazy, and the way he tried to comfort me in front of all of everyone made me feel worse. He needed to start warning me before he acted like a father.

"I know my daughter," he continued, arm still around me, "and I know she's smart enough to do the schoolwork of two years in one if she had to, so believe me, you just tell her what she missed, and she'll get right on it."

"No one is saying your daughter isn't smart enough, Mr. Randle," Mr. Hanson affirmed. "We simply have some concerns about her ability to complete this year given the unfortunate circumstances you outlined when I called you this morning."

"She will." He sounded so confident, it was hard to process. I didn't share the same enthusiasm, and I never once thought I could say he believed in me more than I believed in myself.

"With all due respect, sir," Mrs. Fox started in again, but Dad wouldn't let her finish her thought. He was doing a terrible job remaining professional, but I didn't care. It meant so much he thought I was capabl, and he felt so strongly about it, he couldn't refrain from resorting to colorful language.

"I'm sick of hearing this bullshit," he interrupted. "She ain't a retard, so where's the goddamned fire? You don't think you can teach her? If you can't teach her, you _shouldn't_ be a teacher period."

Everyone fell silent.

His face paled and he massaged his forehead between his fingers to compose himself. "I'm sorry," he muttered and looked up at all of them. "I just don't appreciate being told things I know ain't true about my daughter."

"Mr. Randle," Mr. Hanson started in again. "I assure you that's not the case. We know she's plenty intelligent, but some here have expressed concerns about her attitude—"

"If she has an attitude problem, you let me know, and I'll straighten it out, but she ain't repeating seventh grade."

"If you remember, I had called you about a few of these issues..."

I held my breath. That wasn't him they had talked to; it was Steve pretending to be Dad.

Dad shook his head and stuck to his guns. "Believe me, I'll squash whatever attitude there is when we get home, but you can't hold her back a grade."

"Well, I certainly hope we don't have to, sir," Mr. Hanson concluded. "That was the purpose of this meeting."

"Thank you." Dad stood up awkwardly and pulled me to my feet. "I appreciate this. I do, but we had better get going."

"Miss Randle, could you stop by my office before your first class tomorrow?" Mr. Hanson asked me kindly as my father rushed me towards the door.

I nodded and slunk out the door with Dad before I could catch anything else they said about me.

xxxx

The ride home was silent. I wanted to thank him for sticking up for me, but I didn't trust I was out of hot water yet. He did say he was going to "squash my attitude". Whether he meant that or not, I didn't know, but I knew he had a nasty habit of making up for all the things he'd forgotten to do in one move, regardless if that was an act of kindness or a punishment.

When we got home, he told me to go to my room. Not good. This was headed straight where I suspected. As I walked there slowly, I caught him enter his room out of the corner of my eye, and I feared he was walking in there to grab a belt, something he'd generally reserved for Steve when he was younger. Compared to him, I was lucky. Compared to Angela, I was luckier. Her mother and long line of stepfathers threw whatever was handiest at you, or if they were in a worse mode, beat you with it, but Dad must've thought he should go easier on me since I was a girl. Today, I wasn't lucky. Today, he wanted to make up for everything he'd forgotten to do, and I wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish or why he thought I wouldn't notice how unfair it was. Well, I was aware, and I was damn bitter about it, bitter enough that rage kept me from shivering in fear when he walked in.

Only he had nothing in his hands. He'd simply changed his clothes from what had to be the nicest outfit he'd owned to the faded casual attire I was used to seeing him in.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that for?" he sighed as he sat down, less irritated than his words would indicate. "I just did you a huge favor."

I sprang up and glared at him from a few feet away. I shoved my fingers in my hair and stared at the floor, letting out a small moan.

"Julia," he spat. Now the irritation was there.

I took a deep breath and looked up. "If I'm in trouble, can you just go ahead and punish me already? Go ahead and hit me. Tell me how long I'm grounded. Just don't make me wait."

He brought his hand up to his mouth, stroked his chin, and thrust his arm back down against his lap, clearly taken aback by what I said. "What makes you think you're in trouble?"

"You said you were gonna squash my attitude," I reminded him. "I believe it was those exact words."

"I just wanna talk to you," he said evenly. "But if you get any mouthier, I can arrange that, so you better watch yourself. Sit your ass back down and hear me out. You're the child and I'm the adult. Remember that."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and listened to him. I sat back down and held my tongue, even though lately, it felt like the other way around. When he was drunk at that gas station in Kansas, he sure wanted me to help him out like I was supposed to babysit him or something. Not to mention he had been gone until yesterday. _Yesterday_ was when he bothered to come back and move in Carol and Shannon. This room wasn't just mine any more; Shannon's toys were sprinkled all across the floor in random piles.

"Now I don't think it'd be fair to punish you when it's my half fault you missed so much," he went on, voice strained, but with less anger. "I only said that so they'd come off their high horses and take me seriously for a second."

So he only said it to make it look like he was doing his job as a parent, to make the meeting more convenient for him. I should be glad he wasn't screaming at me, and yet it felt like he'd thrown me under the bus.

I started whining something ungrateful under my breath, but caught myself a second later. He acknowledged he was wrong, that this was his fault. It was _all_ his fault, not half, but that acknowledgment should mean something, and it was good to know he was finally concerned about fairness.

"I meant what I said, young lady." He grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly in his fist. "I was wrong, but you need oughta learn to speak to the adults in your life respectfully. If I dare get a call from the school about this attitude of yours, it ain't gonna be pretty."

I nodded and tried to jerk my arm out of his hold.

He held on a second longer and shook my arm to further make his point. "You're walking a thin line."

"And so are you," I burst out before I had a chance to think about it. "You think you can just come back here and take over everything like you were never gone? Like you ain't a—" _complete screw up_, I finished in my head, but I couldn't bring myself to say it the way he was looking at me.

He let go of my arm and wiped the trickling sweat off his brow. "I know," he said, much to my shock. He had this pained look in his eye too. "I know, honey."

"Then why'd you think you could try and lecture me?" I folded my arms and lifted an eyebrow at him.

He glanced away. "I get it," he said softly. "There's so much I don't even know where to begin, but I'm trying to make it right. Can you cut me just a tiny break? I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' so damn hard... I ain't perfect, alright? And I know that, but I'm still your father, and I still love you."

_Try harder_, I thought indignantly, but when he reached out and pulled me into a hug, some of the frustration melted away. Not all. Just enough I was pissed I wasn't more upset, because I should be. I shouldn't want to forgive and forget, and I wouldn't.

Not until he kept a promise for a change.

xxxx

Carol tapped her foot impatiently as she lorded over the dining table and the supper she'd prepared for us. "Charlie," she called out a third time. "I got the kids here ready to eat and you're still missing."

The kids. _The kids_. She'd only been her a day and a half and she was referring to us collectively. I looked to Steve. He rolled his eyes and huffed out a grunt in annoyance. I smirked and flipped Carol the bird when her back was to us.

Shannon gasped. She knew what that meant apparently, but Steve clapped a hand over her mouth before she could whine anything. Silence was not hear strong suit.

She bit his hand in retaliation, and Steve mumbled a string of cuss words and stared her down in an effort to intimidate her. She just sat their with her arms crossed and wailed, "Mom" at the top of her lungs.

"Steven, don't cuss in front of your little sister."

"No need to worry, I hear him cuss all the time," I replied, which she did not appreciate.

"Don't cuss in front of _either_ of your sisters," she corrected herself and marched off in search of our father.

It was clear to me then she was keeping a tight leash on him. Maybe she was the reason he was trying to get his shit together, and I found it odd. How was it that someone like her was married to a man now in prison if she was so good at keeping somebody in line? That wasn't to say I liked her. It just didn't make sense.

Shannon balled her hands into tiny fists and shook them at me and Steve. "You need to be nice to Mom."

"She ain't our mother," I sneered back at her.

"I'll tell Dad on you."

"No one likes a tattle tale. You wanna have any friends in kindergarten, you better stop doing that fast."

"Daaaaad," she screeched, but he never replied—or returned with Carol for that matter. She came back to the table alone and announced he wasn't feeling well. She sat down and Shannon immediately explained how I'd wronged her.

Before I got a chance to defend myself, Carol shook her head at me disapprovingly. That was it. I shot out of my chair, prepared to leave.

"Julia, sit down," she scolded.

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't appreciate your attitude."

"I don't appreciate you tryin' to act like my mom," I told her, inching further away. "You're not, and as long as you understand that, we might be able to get along."

Steve lifted his eyebrows at me. I wasn't sure if that was a sign he was impressed or a warning I was crossing a line.

Carol narrowed her eyes. "If you walk away from this table, that's your last chance for a meal tonight."

"That's fine," I lied, tears brimming my eyes, but I stuffed them back inside me and wouldn't let them fall. She didn't need that satisfaction. "I already said I wasn't hungry anyway."

I bolted for my room after that, but before I shut my door, I heard Steve defend me. "You're an idiot if you expect her to adjust overnight," he said, and that was the start of their first major argument. In the small time she'd been her, it amazed me how polite he was. Well, what was polite for him at least.

Now, that was over, and I felt self-satisfied he'd broken it to defend me.

I spread myself out on my bed and tuned out the fight Dad had now emerged from his room to mitigate, trying to enjoy what moments I could having my room to myself.

xxxx

Steve burst through the door when Shannon did and told me to follow him to his room.

I looked at him funny, but didn't wait a beat to follow him. "I thought for sure Dad'd have kicked you out for arguing with her like that."

He shut the door behind us and shrugged. "She wouldn't have it. Imagine that. Said no father should ever do that to his son."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Annoying, ain't she? You just ignore her, you hear? Just ignore her. Fight, an' you'll just fuel her will to mother you."

I wanted to tell him that was easier said than done, as he should know. Like hell, he was gonna take his own medicine, but I didn't argue. I was just relieved he'd saved me from Shannon. He'd even set a plate of food on his night stand for me, which I was sure I'd appreciate more later. Right now, the aggravation had taken my appetite away.

"You can sleep here tonight if you want," he offered. "Can't be easy getting used to having that brat as your roommate, huh?"

I beamed. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, I'll be headin' to Soda's here in an hour anyway," he informed me. "Can't take this big happy family crap no more. And eat your damn sandwich already, will ya?"

I lifted the plate into my lap and picked at it. I was less hungry now. It was a stupid thing to be upset about, but I suspected Steve would be spending more time at Soda's now, just like he had the three years Rosie lived with us.

At least maybe I could borrow his room whenever he went. The less I had to share with Shannon, the better. Maybe it was selfish of me not to welcome her warmly, considering she was my little sister and all, but Steve was right. They couldn't expect me to adjust overnight.


	2. Father of the Year: Part 2

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I stared and stared at Steve's ceiling. He left one hour ago, and I already missed him. It wasn't fair he could leave so easily when I was just as fed up with the "family" as he was.

_Goddamn it, let it go_. I sat up fast and hugged my arms around my legs, determined to stop bitching about everything. Even if I was the only one who could hear my thoughts, it had to stop. I didn't have it that bad. So I hated my new step mom. So lots of kids hated their stepmothers, and I was damn frustrated because I realized this, and I wanted to sulk and feel sorry for myself anyway. It was such a conflicting feeling—wanting to pout and being mad I was pouting at the same time. It didn't make sense, but it didn't make sense why Dad should marry Carol as fast as he did either. I whipped around, thrust my head into Steve's pillow and screamed.

Not a minute later, the door swung open. My scream wasn't as silent as I imagined it. I pulled myself up, and there was Dad, standing over me with his arms crossed. "What're you doin' in here?"

I shrugged and studied his face, wondering if he was drunk. He was swaying a little, but with him it was hard to draw the line between drunk and normal. Sometimes I couldn't tell how intoxicated he was unless he was raging mad, puking his brains out, or passing out. He could seem fine, sober even, and then out of a blue, a switch would flip and you'd know he was blitzed.

He leaned close to my face and snapped his fingers near my ear. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you."

"Steve said I could use his room while he was gone," I informed him, fighting the urge to snap my fingers back at him.

He recrossed his arms. "What's wrong with your room?"

"Shannon."

"I was afraid that was it," he said with a sigh.

I rolled my eyes. No shit it was.

He shook his head disapprovingly. "I'm surprised at you. Thought Steve'd be the one I'd have to tell to watch himself, but no, this time you're the one throwing tantrums an' he's—"

"Shut up," I countered. "Weren't you just arguing with him?"

"Excuse me?" he choked out, eyes narrowed. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"I heard you." I jumped to my feet and propped my hands on my hips. "You were gonna kick him out, too, an' he told me himself you would've if Carol hadn't told you not to!"

"Maybe, but only because I didn't need his interference by you." The veins in his neck bulged as he spoke, and his muscles twitched he was trying so hard not to yell at me. "I agree he had a point. You need time to get used to it, and that's fine, but you will _not_ act like a spoiled brat just 'cause you hafta share your room."

I scowled, deeply wounded by his words. I wasn't a brat. I was rude, and as my father, I guess he had a right to reprimand me for that, but I _wasn't_ a brat. "Shannon's way more brat than me," I said and cringed at my tone. _Shit_, the way I said it made me sound bratty.

He looked up to the ceiling and clenched his fist at his sides, like he was trying to demand help from a higher power to deal with me. "Damn it, Julia." He sat down and pressed his face into his hands for a few moments before he bothered to look at me again. "She's been through a lot. Just … please try to be patient."

"And I haven't? I've been through quite a bit too." Most of it his fault, but I didn't remind him. I'd already thrown that in his face earlier, and maybe I did seem selfish with all these "what about me?" remarks.

"I know, honey." He reached out and pulled me back in front of him by my wrists. "Why do think I was so mad at the school today? I'm on your side here. I just want you to give Carol and your little sister a chance. You got used to Rosie eventually."

Yeah, and look at how will that turned out. I shook my head.

He tried to level me with a look, but I stood my ground. "At least you dated her a while before you married her."

"I dated Carol for a long time."

I jerked my wrists out of his grip and plopped down beside him. "Not recently."

"We _were_ serious, Julia."

"I don't remember that." I did remember. Vaguely, but I did.

He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a small groan. "Serious enough we would've stayed together if she didn't think Shannon was another man's child..."

"Oh, that's right." I lifted an eyebrow and clicked my tongue against my teeth. "She cheated on you, didn't she?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That ain't an appropriate thing for a father to discuss with his daughter."

I knew that. I knew it was a miracle he hadn't slapped me for what I'd just said too, but I couldn't let it go. There was Mom, Jack's Mom, Carol, Rosie, and who knows who else. "How many women has it been now?"

"That ain't your business."

That was where he was wrong. These illegitimate kids were my siblings. "Actually if you have kids with them, it kinda is my business."

He snapped his head to me and grabbed my chin. "I dunno what you're talkin' about, little girl, but consider this your last warning. I've had enough of your sassing for one night."

"Well, I've had enough of your lying for a lifetime." Even with his fingers squeezing my jaw, the words rolled off my tongue with ease, and it scared me how much I had enjoyed watching these reactions. The rush of adrenaline propelled me forward and made me ignore the nervous churning in my stomach. One more comment. One more dig. I wanted to know how far I could go. No wonder Steve picked at his faults all the time. It was a sick form of justice, and Dad deserved every minute if it.

"You sure you don't know what I'm talkin' about?" I pushed further. "What about Jack?"

Dad released my chin and sprang to his feet.

I watched carefully as he fumbled around his pockets for his pack. He stole a lighter from the top of Steve's dresser and stuck the cigarette between his lips. "I dunno what to even do with you anymore." The cigarette bobbed up and down as he struggled to lecture me and light it at the same time. "You're as bad as your brother."

"Maybe we learned it from you," I muttered to myself, unsure if he heard me or not.

He pointed the cigarette at me and shook it. "You're grounded."

"How long?"

"You're grounded," he hollered louder, as though I hadn't heard him the first time.

"Yeah, I heard you," I yelled back. "How long?"

He struggled to keep the cigarette steady as he pulled it away from his lips. "You're just... you're just grounded, damn it! You know what I mean. You know how that works. You're grounded. End of story.

"I do, but you clearly don't," I said, folding my arms over my chest. "You have to tell me what I can't do and for how long, you idiot. That how grounding somebody works."

He glared at me and opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head in defeat. I watched him a few more moments, and that was it. He was done. I'd reached the end. I'd upset him to the point he'd given up, and the victory was no longer worth it.

My face paled, and my hands went as cold as ice cubes. I stuffed my pride away and apologized before I lost the urge to do it. "I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered. "It's just I saw the letters Jack sent... Steve showed me while you were gone."

He stubbed the cigarette out and staggered back to the bed. He crouched down in front of me. "That why you're actin' like such a little shithead to me?" he asked, as gently as someone could accuse someone of acting like a shithead.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Well, I got good reason for that," he said with certainty. "Let me ask you this, you think it's fair for me to tell you about him if you'll never get to meet him?"

That was... I didn't even know, but I didn't wait a beat to jump down his throat. "What the hell kind of excuse is that? That sounds like you just don't wanna own up to what you did!"

"You wanted honesty." He stood up and took a few steps back. "Well, that's the honest truth. His mother's got a restraining order against me."

My breath caught in my throat. Restraining orders were for the likes of Angela's mother's ex boyfriends, _not_ my father. "What? Why?"

His eyes watered, and he rammed a fist against Steve's wall. "Damn it, I dunno!"

I huddled the sheets and blankets around me. I had no desire to berate him anymore. it was all nerves now, and I kept quiet for several minutes, hoping Dad would leave because he _was _drunk. I saw that now, and I grew queasier to think I managed to fight with him as much as I had without him losing it.

He paced near Steve's door, stumbling and catching his balance three times. I wrapped the bedding around me tighter and flinched when he started babbling what I assumed was his usual drunken nonsense, but what I heard ended up so much more.

"Dunno what the hell I did to deserve it," he asserted. "After I got that first letter, I wanted to work out a deal where I could see him sometimes. Told her she could have custody. I just wanted to see him once a month, but I couldn't even have that... He wasn't supposed to know me at all, she said."

He stopped there, and my heart sank. No wonder he never talked about this, and it could only be the amount of alcohol in him that he was even willing to discuss it now.

"She was raving mad his grandmother gave him my address," he went on, voice quivering. "Her mother hated me more than anything, but even she knew it was wrong to keep Jack from ever knowing his father. I shouldn't be tellin' you this." He tossed his hands into the hair and paced faster. "Why the hell'm I talkin' you to about this? It ain't right. It ain't right at all."

I examined his words one by one, trying to piece together the whole story from what Steve had said earlier to what Dad was telling me now. "Steve never said—"

"Your brother hears what he wants. He was so mad I was arrested he hasn't let it go long enough to listen." He stopped pacing and leaned against Steve's dresser, tripping over his words. "I … I didn't mean to get arrested. Didn't mean to yell at her. Or _shove_ her. Christ, I just … just wanted to see my goddamned son. Is that a crime? Does a man not have a right to know his son? But it don't matter. They told me I was an unfit father after that, and next thing I knew, you and Steve had to live with Rita."

I wasn't prepared for that. If that was true, I should've spent less time resenting him. I thought he'd given us away by his own will. Steve claimed he'd given us away, but maybe that was what six year old Steve thought, and seventeen year old Steve was too stubborn to admit six year old Steve was wrong.

"Nice he kept writing me in secret," Dad continued, voice lifting a little. "Don't think he's supposed to do that under the agreement. Never could write him back of course..."

"But Jack's an adult now." I rubbed my forehead, wondering if Dad was so dense he'd missed that. It shouldn't matter, because Jack could make his own decisions, but I guess I didn't know for sure if everything Angela had said about the legal maters was accurate. I remembered her telling me once that Tim delegated someone else the task of getting revenge on their mother's ex because he wasn't adult yet and didn't want any legal trouble. Didn't want anyone accusing him of violating the order by conspiring with his mother, or something like that, but then again Tim had a record a mile wide before he was sixteen.

Dad was silent.

"Shouldn't he be able to contact you if he wants?" I added cautiously.

"I can't take any risks," he said firmly. "He's an adult now, sure, but she's got money. All kinds of money like you wouldn't believe. She could get herself a fancy lawyer, and I don't wanna lose you and Steve again. I ain't takin' that risk. It was hard enough gettin' custody back..."

I didn't know what to say, so I just hugged him.

He squeezed me back so tight, I thought he was trying to crush me, and reeked of booze.

Another wave of anger surged through me. Despite how much I appreciated his new found openness regarding his emotions, it was disgusting this was how he kicked off his new marriage; just as drunken and sloppy as he'd always been, and I knew, if it failed, it was probably going to be his fault.

I gritted my teeth and stuffed the hatred back inside me. If he hadn't been drunk, I might've never learned what I had, that he never wanted to send us to Rita's. He'd only done so because he had to.

xxxx

I tossed and turned for an hour after Dad left, and when I finally passed out, I was startled awake. Once again the door swung open, and I groaned, wondering what on earth Dad wanted to bother with me now, but it was Steve.

I sat up quickly and caught my breath. "Damn it, you scared the shit out of me!"

He smirked. "Well, it is my room, so... Deal with it."

He flipped the light own and I rubbed at my eyes in pain from the brightness. "Thought you were gonna stay the night at Soda's," I grumbled at him.

Steve scratched the side of his head and sighed. "Yeah, well, let's just say he's in an awful lot of trouble with Darry right now."

I blinked a few more times. "What happened?"

"He crashed his truck."

"What?"

"You bet."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Steve had control issues about driving. Why were they driving Darry's truck in the first place? Why not Steve's car? "How?"

"Well, Garrett was cracking jokes about how beat up the old thing is, and Soda got pissy about it," Steve explained. I could tell by the way he said it, he was irritated with Soda himself.

"Soda told him it might look like a hunk of junk, but he could still beat him in a drag race," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Of course I told him it was stupid. Like that engine could hold up to anything over fifty, but Soda was dead set on upholding the honor of his old man's truck."

That name sounded so familiar. He probably hung out with Tim or Curly.

"Anyway, it was a disaster waiting to happen. Darry was so mad, he asked me to leave so he could _murder Soda without an audience_ as he put it. Hell, even Ponyboy didn't try to defend him..."

"Wow."

Steve snorted and broke out in nervous laughter. "Blame their dad. He used to tell us all kinds of crazy stories about what he did with that truck. Made it up probably. Mrs. Curtis to smack him over the head with a magazine whenever he started doing that... Boy, she hated that."

I nodded and glanced away. Even if he was laughing, it was still hard to look at Steve whenever he talked about Soda's parents. You could see just how much his missed them, how much they were like the parents he never had, and the awkward silence that followed his laughter was very telling. "So Dad gave me a lecture about how he wants me to be nice to the brat," I started in to change the subject. I figured we both hated this new family and could bond over bashing it. I wanted to tell him what I learned about Jack, too, but I remembered what Dad had said about Steve hearing what he wants and held off.

Steve took a seat beside me without a word.

"He said I was acting like a brat," I pressed on in hopes of a reply or at least a smirk. "Can you believe that?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, actually."

I sighed loud on purpose and yanked on my hair. "Ugh, you gotta be kidding me," I moaned. Out of all the things Steve could tell me Dad was right about, this was it?

Steve slapped my arm. "Calm down and let me finish."

I rubbed my arm and glared at him, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Now Dad don't want me to tell you this, but I think you oughta know."

"Know what?"

"Her stepdad went to prison for more than just drugs," he explained. "He was sick man, Jule."

"Sick how?"

Steve went white and looked away from me before he continued. "Sick as in he slept with underage girls..."

"_Oh_."

"Carol doesn't know for sure, but she thinks maybe... I dunno."

I held up my hand. He didn't have to say any more. God, I wanted to hate Carol. I should hate that man, but how could just choose _him_ over my dad? And if that bastard thought Shannon was really his, how could he—

I shook my head at Steve. I could hear Dad's voice replaying in my head; _she's been through a lot. _Shit, she really had been through a lot. "I, um..." I hesitated. My heart was beating so fast. "I hope Soda doesn't die tonight," I added and shielded my face in embarrassment. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._ Now it sounded like I could care less about our sister.

"Yeah, bet Darry's still yelling at him," he chuckled, welcoming the subject change with open arms. He went on to threaten he'd murder me and dig me out of the grave just to have another go at me if I just so much as scratched his car.

I didn't doubt it. I rolled my eyes and moved towards the door. Now that he was here, I figured I'd better head back to my room.

"Hold up," he called out before my fingertips reached the doorknob. "I almost woke up Dad when I came in. Unlike you, I know how to be quiet, which means you have no chance.."

I rolled my eyes again. I was quieter than him _any_ day, but I didn't argue. It was gonna be hard to look at Shannon the next time I saw her; the longer I could delay it, the better.

xxxx

_Friday, January 6th, 1967_

The next morning I sat on the bench outside Mr. Hanson's office and bounced my feet until my toes were almost numb. I had nothing to worry about. The only teacher who was furious with me was Mrs. Fox. Mr. Hanson had been completely calm. Even as Dad yelled at him, he was calm, but at least my nerves kept my mind off last night.

The door squeaked open. I stared at the floor and waited to hear my name. "Now I expect you to be on your best behavior," his voice boomed.

"Sorry," I muttered, but he wasn't talking to me.

"You hear me, Miss Shepard?" he continued.

_Miss Shepard_? I looked up. Indeed it was Angela.

She looked bored but gave him a small nod.

"No lucky breaks for you," he warned her in his strictest teacher tone. "You put one foot out of line, and you'll be answering to me, young lady. No excuses. I will _not_ have any repeats of last year."

"Sure thing, Ernie," she said with a salute. "Believe me, you got nothing to worry about. I love Jesus now."

"_Mr. Hanson_," he corrected her. "And you better pray to Jesus no one sends you to the office, or you might just meet him. I'm afraid I've turned the other cheek for you one to many times."

I couldn't help but giggle at his comeback. Even she was mildly impressed. "Touché, Mr. Hanson," she told him and flipped around, smirking at me as she strolled into the hallway.

She was back. Angela was back.

"Miss Randle." Mr. Hanson cleared his throat behind me.

I turned to him. "Yes, sir?"

He motioned for me to come into his office, face bright red, and every inch of his body tense. _Way to put him in shitty mood, Angel_.


	3. Passive Manipulation

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Mr. Hanson quickly shut the door behind us and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Miss Randle."

I sat down and watched him as he walked around the desk. His gait was stiff, and when he reached his chair, he remained standing for a minute, peering down at me with his hands on his hips. "As you just saw, Miss Shepard is back in the public school system." He let out a tiny huff of air that wasn't quite a sigh, but enough of a reaction to know exactly how he felt about her return. He was just too professional to admit it. "If I remember right, you two were friends."

_Yes, and we still are friends, thank you very much. _

I swallowed and nodded. Somehow I just knew this would be another "this is why you shouldn't be friends with Angela Shepard" speech, and I didn't need to hear it today. Not when I heard it from Steve every single day of my life.

He grinned at me and finally settled himself into his seat, much to my relief. He was a big, muscled man. Even if you weren't in trouble, you still feared for your own safety when he towered over you. I'd bet he never had to discipline his own children. Just the threat he _could_ had to keep them in line.

His grin was short-lived and drooped into a deep frown the moment he began to lecture me. "Now it may not be in my formal job description to give young ladies advice on who their friends should and shouldn't be, but I'd reckon you'll walk yourself into a whole lot of trouble following her around. I think with your situation, it might be in your best interest to steer clear of her. Keep yourself out of trouble, you here? Considering all you've been through, you're doing remarkably well, and I don't want to see that change."

I stared at him with a blank expression. It was in my best interest to have never been her friend in the first place, but it was too late now. I cared about her and wouldn't abandon her, especially now that she might be pregnant. She _needed_ me.

"If you stay on top of your schoolwork and keep making up the time you missed in detention, I don't foresee any problems," he continued. "But, I do hope you realize there'll come a point where I can't cut you any more lucky breaks than I already have, and Angela, she—"

"I know," I snapped. "I get it, she's bad news."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, sir." I stared at my lap. I hadn't meant to cut him off, but I'd heard enough of these lectures for a lifetime. She _was _a bad influence, and I didn't care. Her influence wasn't as profound as they thought. So she introduced me to bad things. Big deal. _I_ choose to go along with them in the end. They were my choices, my decisions. I could still be her friend and keep my hands clean, or I could dive right into whatever mess she was creating, but it was on _me_, not her. She didn't make me do anything. I used to think so, but it was only a nice excuse—a way to not feel responsible for my actions. _Angela made me do it_. She was great for that. Sure, her scheming made me nervous sometimes, but I couldn't deny my life was more exciting with her in it.

I looked up, and his face was nearing the same shade of red it was when Angela had left his office. She'd certainly eaten up his patience. There was little, if any, left for my backtalk.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I just hear that a lot."

Mr. Hanson lifted an eyebrow. "If you hear it a lot, there might be some truth to it. You ever considered that?"

I bit down on my lip and fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Sounds like something my brother would say," I muttered and gasped when I realized spoken the words out loud.

"Wait a minute your brother _Steve_?"

I sighed. Of course it came as a shock to him the student he probably most wanted to forget about was a bossy hypocrite when it came to his little sister. "Remember him?" I asked facetiously.

"If Steve thinks you need to steer clear of someone, you really ought to," Mr. Hanson said, eyes still wide. "And yes, I do remember him. Bright kid, but he sure had a mouth on him." The way he looked at me then told me he wanted to draw a comparison between us, and I guess it'd have been fair.

"Anyway, onto the real purpose of this visit..." Mr. Hanson pieced through a stack of papers on his desk and set one in front of me. "I've rearranged your schedule for the remainder of the year."

I leaned forward and skimmed through the names of the teachers. Nearly every one was the same with a notable exception—Mrs. Fox wasn't there. That was a pleasant coincidence. I wanted to hug him for sparing me her wrath, but then I noticed something else. He'd placed me in the resource room one of the hours. The resource room, or _The Retard Room_, as all my classmates called it. I scowled.

"As you can see, you'll have more time during the day to account for what you've missed," he said matter of factly. "I've also arranged for a student to tutor you after school. Miss Rachel Mathews. I do believe you know her."

I slapped my hand over the schedule on the desk and shoved it back in front of him. "I won't need any tutoring, thanks."

He simply scooped the schedule up and placed it front of me. "You'll need this to know where you're going today, and as for tutoring, the option is there, should you need it. Rachel assured me she'd be happy to help.

Of course she did, but the keyword was _should_. _Should_ I need it. God, Rachel could go to hell, and I didn't need to go to the resource room any more than I needed her tutoring, but I somehow managed to pull myself together and sat quietly, keeping my opinions to myself, as he wrote me a hall pass to my first class. My new first class, that was.

I guess, that was the difference between me and Steve. I knew how to cut people down, but I also knew when to shut up. I wasn't sure he'd _ever _learn that skill. That was why Mr. Hanson would remember his mouth for years to come.

I took the hall pass and raced out of his office as fast as I could without looking suspicious. If I ran too fast, they'd think I was trying to skip, but really, I just wanted out of there. I made me maybe fifty steps down the hallway when Angela popped around the corner.

I should've known she'd be waiting for me.

She looked self-satisfied. She had plans.

"Good morning, Julia," she greeted in a mock cheery tone as she hooked her arm into mine.

"Jesus, Angel," I whined. "I'm already late. Whatever you want, save it for after school."

She shook her head. "Can't wait that long."

"Of course you can," I scoffed.

"Come to lunch with me. We're going to that new café by the bowling alley."

I pushed her arm out of mine and groaned. "You and _who_?"

"Bryon, Mark, Candy, who knows who else..."

Ugh, if Candy was going, I definitely wasn't going."Your friends with Candy again?"

Angela nodded. "Don't worry, still hate her, but I guess she an' Bryon fancy each other. Perfect for each other, don't you agree?"

I raised an eyebrow. Last I heard, she said she'd break up with him on her own terms. I guess that time had come sooner than I expected. "You're officially broken up now?"

"We agreed it wasn't working out." She shrugged and tugged me towards the girl's bathroom nearby. "We agreed to be friends."

"Friends?" I questioned, resisting her pull. I dug my feet into the tiled flooring and grimaced.

"Yes, _friends_. Is it that hard to believe?"

She kept yanking until I nearly tripped. I gave up and followed her. Once the bathroom door shut behind us, I crossed my arms and shook my head at her. "You sure this ain't just another breakup where you'll be back together by the end of the month? Ain't that how every breakup ends for ya?"

"Hmm." She planted her chin into her hand and tapped her finger against her month, giving the illusion she was thinking hard about this, but I knew she wasn't. She was just giving me a hard time for questioning her plans.

"Not sure I care either way," she concluded with an awful smirk.

My cheeks redeemed, and I balled my hands into fists at my sides. "Oh, that's right, you _still _plan on lying to James..."

She grabbed my arm, her nails biting my skin, and glared at me. "I already told you, it was just an idle thought. Nothing's for sure."

It wasn't an idle thought. She told me that it was days after the fight we had. Right after Christmas. She gave me another pack of cigarettes and piles of makeup as gifts and begged me not to take everything she'd told me seriously. She wasn't in her right mind, she said, but when was Angela ever in her right mind? I just couldn't get over it—that she could even suggest doing something that cruel to someone.

I ripped my arm out of her grip. I wanted to slap her too, but I didn't.

"Besides, I've been thinking anyway..." She rubbed her forehead, eyes darting away from me.

Anytime she said that, it was bad, and the fact she couldn't look me in the eye made it scarier. "What?" I asked.

She trailed her hands down the front of her body and rested them over her stomach. "Maybe having a baby wouldn't be such a horrible thing."

"You mean you wanna be a mother now?" I threw my hands in the air and heaved an exasperated sigh. "You hate kids. All you ever say is how much you hate kids."

"Damn it, I still do," she insisted, stomping her heel against the ground. "But I could get used to it maybe. If it were my own, it might be different. No one really hates their own kids. My mom's kind of lousy, but she still loves us."

The look on her face told me she was serious about this, but it was still hard to tell when she was being serious and when she was voicing these "idle thoughts". "Really?"

"Hell, I dunno," she faltered. "You and I both know if I started bleeding like a stuck pig this very second, I'd leap for joy, but I'm just sayin', I ain't gonna try to ... you know, get rid of it."

I wasn't sure she even could. Well, never mind, I remembered her telling me a horrific story about how some women went to really desperate lengths to get rid of their babies, but somehow, as crazy as she was, I didn't think she'd be capable. I wasn't sure why I thought that, but I did. I'd defend her if anyone tried to say she had...

She grinned and elbowed my arm. "What do you say we cut now?"

I rolled my eyes. "_No_. God, they're already talkin' me repeating a grade. I can't miss—" I couldn't finish my sentence. I was interrupted by the loud shrill of the bell. What a coincidence. What a terrible coincidence.

"You just missed all of first period, and who cares if you get held back," she pointed out. "I already have been..."

I rolled my eyes again. Yeah, apparently she didn't like to talk back in kindergarten. They thought she was deaf or stupid, but she just didn't see any use to doing the work. It was too easy for her or she was too stubborn. Probably both, but it was weird to think she'd once been selectively mute when she was the loudest person I knew.

"C'monn," Angela nagged. "We should sneak out now. They won't notice us with all the kids in the hallway."

I had already missed first period. She had a point, and Dad... Based on what I'd seen yesterday, he wouldn't let them repeat me. Besides, Mr. Hanson was decent today. Even while mad at Angela, he hadn't lost his cool with me, which made me think he was still feeling generous enough to give me lucky breaks.

I could take another chance, but just one. After this, I was done. No more.

xxxx

Angela drug me up and down downtown before we ever reached our final destination, and as it turned out, she lied. We weren't going to any new café; we were just bumming around some abandoned lot. Maybe her brothers claimed it as their territory. I didn't know, but all we did was stand around and smoke. What was the point? Just to skip class? It seemed stupid to me.

"Is Bryon comin' at all?" Candy groaned for the hundredth time.

Angela flicked her ashes at her. "Face it, Candace, he pussied out."

"Don't talk about him like that," Mark hissed.

Angela laughed. "What, your friend, excuse me _brother,_ ain't a pussy?"

Mark took a few steps closer to her. "I said don't talk about him like that."

"Well, if he's not comin', I'm bookin' it," Candy huffed and stormed off.

No one bothered chasing after her.

Angela raised her eyebrows and coughed out a cackle, like she was surprised. "You really think _she's_ better suited for 'im?"

"Clearly, he's got terrible taste in women," he sneered, a clear insult to Angela, and it almost pissed me off enough to say something to him, but I held my tongue. It looked like Angela was enjoying the argument.

"That really think about me, Mark?"she asked, not fazed at all by what he'd said.

He had a smug look about him. "Oh, what I think is worse."

She inched closer to him and reached into his pocket.

He tried to push her way, but she'd managed to snatch a small bag of something.

"Hey, knock it off," he grumbled at her. "Damn it, not _now_."

"I already paid for it," she insisted, tossing whatever it was in her purse.

He leaned close to her ear, whispering something about me. I could tell by the way he glanced at me. He looked nervous.

"Please, Julia's harmless," she dismissed it and slapped his arm. "She ain't gonna say nothin'."

"Say what?" I asked.

"Nothin'," Mark answered quickly.

"Jeez, it's just grass," Angela told me, completely unashamed about it. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it. Might not be legal, but you ain't gonna say nothin', right?"

Mark still looked uneasy. He looked like he wanted to punch Angela.

I shook my head. "Of course not."

"See, she ain't a nark," Angela assured him, clapping a hand against his shoulder. "You can trust her."

She trusted me too much, but she was right. Turning her into the authorities was out of the question. It'd never occur to me to do that. The worst thing I could think to do was tell one of her brothers, but I'd have to be really, _really_ hacked to consider it.

Still, it was unsettling. We'd been hanging around Mark for a while now—her more than me—and she was buying from him? How long had this been happening? Had she gotten the joint she smoked in my bedroom from him? I always assumed she stole from her brothers, but I guess I'd been wrong...

Angela and Mark argued a few more minutes. He was deeply frustrated with her. Maybe it was more that she'd broken up with his friend than what had just happened, but it was the first time I'd seen him this angry. He was always friendly and looking to have a good time, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to wring her neck, and I didn't blame him.

"Mark, I really won't say anything," I interrupted them. "Honest, I ain't that kind of person."

He jerked his head to me, stunned I'd intervened.

"See?" Angela taunted him.

His eyes grew wider and wider until I realized it wasn't me he was shocked about. It was whoever was behind me, and Mark split so fast I'd have thought it was the fuzz, but it wasn't.

No, maybe even worse.

_Tim_.


	4. Curly: Peacekeeper, Peacebreaker

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"Well, hello there, Timothy," Angela drawled out, emphasizing each syllable of his name. "I take it you felt like ditchin' too?"

"Cut the bullshit."

"What bullshit? Ain't it obvious?"

He shook his head and took a few strides closer to her until there was less than a foot between them.

She stepped back, but he seized her arm and pulled her back in front of him. "Damn it, Angel, what the hell're you doin' here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Skippin' class."

He stared her down, never once breaking his gaze to glance in my direction. He wanted to interrogate her and only her, and here I was relieved as hell yet frozen in terror out of sympathy. He made me uneasy. I felt awkward around him even if he was being nice, usually tripping over my words and struggling to stay still any time time he entered the room. He must've thought I was crazy.

Angela glared back, but beneath her tough girl demeanor, she was afraid. I could see it in her eyes, and I think he did too because he released her arm a second later.

"Ma's gonna have a brain aneurysm before you ever reach adulthood," he said coolly. "You care to notice how she's been beside herself since she found out you got expelled from catholic school? You ever care to think about someone other than yourself?"

"Assuming you don't give her a heart attack first," Angela huffed, rolling her eyes again. She rolled her eyes so many times, there was no way it was unintentional.

"We're talkin' about you, not me," he reminded her, pointing his finger directly in her face.

She slapped his hand away and stomped her heel down against the pavement. "Jesus, you hypocritical ass. Does it not appear we're doin' the exact same thing? We're cuttin' class, ain't we? Can we skip the damn lecture al—"

"Tim, I don't think he's showin'," Curly called out as he turned the corner into the lot. "Well, well, well, our little sis. I'm _so_ surprised." He raised his eyebrows and dropped his jaw in feigned shook.

Intrigued by what he'd said, Angela whipped around to face him. "Who ain't showin'?"

Curly chuckled.

"None of your damn business," Tim said.

"Hey, Angel." Curly crossed his arms. "The hell're you doin' here anyway?"

Tim poked her arm. "You never did answer me."

She flipped him the bird, deliberating taking her time to tilt her finger up, and grinned. "How's that for an answer?"

Tim cuffed her upside the head. Not hard, but she shrieked like he'd punched her.

"You feel like cuttin' class, you stay the hell away from here, you got that?" he said.

"If it's your territory, why does it matter?" She rolled her eyes for the millionth time. "Obvioulsy no one's gonna mess with me 'cause they know you..."

He shook his head. "One these days someone's gonna mess with you _because_ they know me, and they know what they've heard from their buddies 'bout you."

Her face blanched, and she propped her hands on her hips in an attempt to conceal her embarrassment. "I dunno what your talkin' about, but don't I appre—"

"You damn well know _exactly_ what I'm talkin' about. You gotta be careful, Angel. How many times do I hafta say it 'fore you get burned?"

"Don't talk about your own sister like that, you ass—"

"Angela, shut up. Tim, calm the fuck down," Curly's voice cut through the tension. You could've heard him from a mile away.

He stepped between them, eyes ablaze. "Knock it off, both of you."

Angela lunged forward and shoved him. "Fuck you."

She hardly knocked him off balance, but he still slapped her back—far harder than Tim had hit her too. "What part of shut up don't you understand?"

She glared at him as she rubbed her cheek, but she listened. It always amazed me how Tim was a billion times more threatening, but all Curly had to do was say it once. Granted, he'd hit her at the same time, so I guess that was threatening in its own right, but she was dead silent.

"I don't have time for this shit." Tim turned to Curly. "Take her home, will ya? And Julia too."

I swallowed. So he had noticed me...

Curly didn't answer right away. He glanced away and scratched the side of his head.

Tim grabbed the collar of his jacket and shook it in his fist. "I said take them home, you deaf piece of shit."

Curly pushed Tim away. "Fine, if that's what mellows you out."

Tim caught his balance and shoved Curly twice as hard. "You tryin' to tell me you think it's a good idea to have them here before … _you know_."

"Yeah, alright, I get it." Every inch of Curly was shaking in hopes of revenge, but he held off, stepping away from Tim and motioning for me and Angela to follow him.

Angela looked at me and hustled to catch up to Curly.

Tim caught her shoulder and held her back for a second. "We'll talk more about this later. Don't you think for a second this conversation is over."

Curly groaned and pivoted around. "Yeah, I'll bet she's _real_ scared, Tim."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Careful what you wish for."

"Calm. The fuck. _Down_."

Tim looked like he was about to start a full on fist fight with Curly, but his brother's insults must've had some impact on him because he released Angela's shoulder and let us walk away in peace.

xxxx

Angela was still piping mad when we reached their house. She'd bitched out Curly every step of the way, and she was far from done. He tuned her out the entire time, which had to be on purpose. The more frustrated she became, the more self-satisfied he looked, but her anger paled in comparison to her mother's.

"Angela Grace, you better not have gotten suspended," she boomed, rushing towards the entryway. The three of us had just walked in, and she was already on Angela's case.

"You skip out on work, I cut class," Angela offered with a shrug.

Curly elbowed her, but she didn't take the hint. "Maybe you oughta practice what you pre—"

Her mother slapped her across the face not once but twice and hard. My jaw twitched in sympathy. First Curly. Now this.

Angela folded her arms and exhaled a shaky breath, only to be slapped a third time. "It was supposed to straighten you out!" her mother fumed. "And you'll get yourself expelled from public school too now, won't you? You rotten little shit. I did not raise you to be like this." She raised her hand again.

"Stop," I yelled, unsure I could handle seeing a fourth blow.

Thank God Curly stepped forward and pulled his mother back before she could get her hands on Angela again. It was a struggle. She fought him fiercely, but he prevailed. "That's enough, Ma, she gets it," he assured her. "Angela, for God sakes, just go to your room like she said."

Angela nodded and scurried away. She looked upset, perhaps even terrified. I moved to chase after her, but Curly held up a finger for me to stay put. I shook my head at him and he mouthed "Don't move" at me. Why I didn't know, but I listened, not wanting to butt my way into their family's perpetual drama anymore than I already had.

"What the heck're you doin' out of school yourself, young man?" their mother demanded.

"I was on lunch period when I ran into her," he explained with ease. "Been on good terms with the principal lately. Letting me have open lunch period again, but I'll be back in afternoon classes this afternoon, trust me."

She ate up his bullshit so fast, I nearly puked. "I'm so sorry, honey." She pulled him into a hug, damn near tears. "It's just your sister always finds her way under my last nerve. Thank you for bringing her home. You're such a good kid."

Curly cringed and pried her away gently. "Um, you been drinkin', Ma?"

She answered in a broken, messy slur of words I couldn't make out over her sobbing.

"Alright, alright, why don't you take a nap or somethin', huh?" Curly guided her towards her room.

She nodded and walked herself the rest of the way with her face in her hands.

Curly watched her until she disappeared behind her bedroom door and thrust his fingers into his hair. "Sorry you had to see that." He nodded to the front door. "C'mon I'll walk you home..."

"You don't have to." I blushed, still embarrassed by all I'd seen. "I can walk myself."

He shook his head, grabbed my jacket sleeve and tugged me out the door with him. "Let's just say if your brother catches one word I let you walk home by your lonesome, that'll be the end of me. Let's go."

He had a point, but that didn't make it any less awkward. I curled my lip under my teeth and kept my feelings on the matter to myself. I should just be grateful he was taking me far away from the chaos, but all I could think about was Angela and how she was holding up. Glory, the way her mother had slapped her... That was too much, even for someone who was used to getting hit.

"So I've been meaning to ask you," Curly piped up. We weren't even ten feet away from their porch. I thought this would be a silent walk, but his solemn expression told me it was anything but.

"What's goin' on with my sister?" he cut straight to it. "I know something's up. She won't tell me, and it's drivin' me crazy, but I _know_ she talks to you."

"Oh, you know," I dismissed it with a nervous laugh. "Just her average boyfriend troubles. Bryon, James... You know, the usual."

"James's the usual?"

I gulped. _Shit, shit, shit. _She was gonna kill me. "I thought you knew?"

"Knew she fancied him." He shrugged. "Sure teased her about it a lot, but me an' Tim thought she was playin' that just to get under our skin. James says his hands are clean at least... Might have to beat it outta him. Trust your word over his. You ain't much of a liar, are ya?"

"Could you maybe just talk to him?" I suggested, praying he'd see reason. No thanks to me some guy was about to get his ass handed to him, and I was not okay with that.

Curly snorted. "Don't worry about it. I look forward to it. Hell, James probably looks forward to it too."

I grimaced. At least James could hold his own. Guys were weird anyway. They liked to knock each other unconscious for their own enjoyment.

"So about Angela," he continued. "No way that's all. There's somethin' more."

I swallowed and did my best to play dumb. "I dunno what you're takin' about. She's no different than usual."

He stopped dead in his tracks and halted me too. "How can you say that as her best friend?" he berated me. "Now either you ain't as good of a friend as you think you are or you're lying, an' I'll bet it's the second."

I clenched my hands into fists and looked to my feet. "Curly, I dunno. I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I keep her secrets," I asserted, but I still couldn't look at him. "I _am_ her best friend, and that's what a best friend does."

"What if it ain't in her best interest?"

"_No_."

"Well, all I know is I ain't seen her like this since our dad left," he hissed near my ear. "Now're you gonna help me out or what?"

I was too frustrated to speak. I opened my mouth, but my voice was broken. I looked up and shook my head at him.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, it's just I've had this suspicion for a while now, an' … an' now I know I'm right. Shoot, if nothin' else was standin' out, the way you're actin' is a dead ringer."

"What?"

He rubbed his temples between his fingers. "She's pregnant, ain't she?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Think, Julia, think fast_. "No," I shouted at a loss for anything else.

"Then you tell me what," he dared.

"No!" I repeated.

"I think I have my answer," he said bitterly.

I clutched my stomach and panted, trying to catch my breath. I'd worked myself up so much, I was out of air. Where'd I go wrong? Where'd I screw up? Where'd I cough up the information?

"C'mon, let's go." Curly grabbed my arm and tugged me forward. "You stand around like that all day, and I'll never get you home."

"Angela ain't pregnant," I told him, trying to undo the damage. "Curly, you gotta listen to me here."

"You're an awful liar," he told me, completely unconvinced. 'You oughta learn a trick or two from her."

I bit my lip. He was right. The more I said the worse it would get, and I felt sicker, so sick I might throw up all over someone's lawn.

Curly trudged on, dragging me with him each step of the way. He was furious. Whether with me, Angela, or James, I couldn't tell. Probably all three, and I regretted skipping now more than ever. If I hadn't come, none of this would've happened. Who cared about getting in trouble? I'd just outed Angela's biggest secret yet, and that was two thousand times worse.

Curly let go of my arm when we were within a bock of my house and walked alongside me until we were reached my driveway.

"Thanks for walking me home," I said quietly and made a break to run inside.

"Wait, Julia," he called after me.

I kept moving.

"Thanks," he added as my fingers closed around the doorknob. "I know you didn't wanna tell me, but I'm glad I know."

I curled my lip under my teeth and opened the door before he could say anything more. I slammed it behind me and exhaled. Damn it, I should've at least begged him not to tell her where he'd gotten his infomration from. I was screwed.

"Why ain't you in school?" a voice rumbled from the kitchen.

"Why ain't you at work?" I shot back and kicked myself to resorting to Angela's failed comeback. I'd probably get myself slapped too.

"Work?" the voice questioned.

Shit, it wasn't Dad. It was Steve, but that brought little relief.

He stepped into the living room and lifted an eyebrow like he expected me to spill my guts.

"I, um, I thought you was Dad."

"No shit, but what the hell're you doing here?" he scolded. "Christ, I come here to grab a quick lunch with Two-Bit, and guess who called? Your principal. Imagine that."

Just then Two-Bit popped his head around the corner and waved at me.

I waved back and frowned, pleading with him to offer something up in my defense. He just smirked, somehow amused by this.

"You wanna explain why you're here and not there?" Steve went on.

I hung my head to the floor. "I'm sick."

"Sick how?"

"Just sick," I replied, aware it wouldn't do me any good, but then again I didn't expect him to buy the lie in the first place.

"She does look kinda pale, Steve," Two-Bit pointed out.

If I did it was embarrassment over what had happened, but maybe I'd just found my saving grace.

Steve walked up to me and tilted my head up until our eyes met. "Why didn't you just tell 'em you was sick if you were sick?"

"I thought they'd think I was fakin'," I explained, disgusted at how easily the fib rolled off my tongue. "'Cause of how much I missed, you know."

He patted my shoulder and nodded. "Don't worry, I'll call 'im back and explain. Tell 'im I didn't believe you at first either. I mean, pretending to be Charlie, of course."

"I can do that if you want," Two-Bit offered, far too excited about it. "What? Your ol' man's fun to imitate."

"Yeah, alright," Steve agreed and nudged me towards the couch. "C'mon, Jule, you should probably lay down or somethin'."

I swallowed and walked right over to the couch before he could guess I was faking.

Two-Bit was already making the phone call and having way too much fun with it. He told Mr. Hanson an extremely elaborate tale in which I projectile vomited over everything in our house, but apparently it was successful. So much so he rushed over to us and high-fived Steve as soon as he hung up.

"Nice story, Two-Bit," Steve congratulated him.

Two-Bit took a bow and moved for our door. "I dunno about you, but I'm out."

"Sure you don't wanna stay?" Steve asked. "Hell, she probably wouldn't mind if you watched TV with us all afternoon. Perfect opportunity to skip, no?"

"Hmmmm," Two-Bit drawled and shook his head a split second later. "Gonna have to pass on that, buddy."

Steve scratched his head. "_You're_ passin' up an opportunity to skip?"

"Laurie's my lab partner in Biology today." Two-Bit winked. "Literally _and_ figuratively. We'll be doin' an awful lotta observation and examination if you caught my drift."

"In the classroom?" I chimed in. "That even legal?"

Steve pinched my arm and snapped his head back to Two-Bit. "Do us a favor and keep those kind of details to yourself." _Especially in front of me, right?_ I rolled my eyes.

Two-Bit nearly doubled over he laughed so hard. "Gee, Steve, your sister sure knows which way's up."

"Get the hell outta here 'fore I deck you."

"Feel better soon, Julia," Two-Bit added, ignoring Steve.

Steve waved him away. "_Bye_, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit saluted him and snickered as he slipped out our front door. As soon as the door was shut, Steve let out a small chuckle, covering his mouth in an attempt to hide it from me.

He got up and flicked on the TV. "Looks like it's Lassie reruns for us today," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Lassie ain't so bad." I liked it a lot when I was young. Honestly, I still liked it and watched new episodes whenever I had my say over which channel we watched. Unlucky for me, CBS came in the fuzziest at our place.

Steve didn't tease me about it anymore, which only served to remind me he believed I was sick. Damn it, I felt like shit. The guilt was horrible enough make me sick for real, and I made it exactly ten minutes through the _Lassie_ episode before I spilled everything.

I rambled and rambled so fast, he probably thought I was a blubbering idiot, but I told him every last detail. Right down to Curly learning the truth.

It took him a while to process, but once he did, it surprised me he didn't start yelling. "Shit, bothering you that much, huh?" Steve put his hands on my shoulders. "Listen, it's probably good thing he knows. If it was you, I'd wanna know."

"I dunno, Steve, her brothers ain't like you..." I wasn't sure what I was trying to say. Her brothers weren't awful. They cared about her a lot, but Steve seemed more ... supportive maybe? I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew I could count on him to help me out, even if I had walked myself into trouble like that. He'd probably be the best help I would find, even if he'd chew me out first. He'd be the best and the worst help wrapped into one.

"Damn it, she's gonna hate me for coughing it up," I added miserably.

"C'mon, you don't know that yet."

I shrugged. Maybe not for sure, but it'd be an even bigger shock than Steve's eerie calmness.

"Honest, Julia—" Steve started in, interrupted by Carol's entrance.

She set a bag of groceries down. "What's goin' on?"

"She ain't feelin' well," Steve said.

My eyes widened, stunned he'd just spewed my lie at her.

"Oh, you poor thing. You do look awfully pale."

I groaned on the inside. Why did everyone think I looked pale? Was I still that freaked out over Angela?

"Steve, you can head on back to school now," Carol told him as she walked towards us. "I can take care of her, so you don't have to miss anything more."

Steve shook his head. "I'm already here, and she'd want me to stay." He stood up and helped me to my feet. Come to notice it, once standing, I _did_ feel queasy, but it was probably just nerves. "C'mon, Julia, you should probably be in bed." Steve eyed Carol crossly and rushed me off to his room instead of mine, which didn't bother me. My room felt more like Shannon's than my own.

Carol looked annoyed, but she didn't argue with him.

Steve slammed the door and pointed to his bed for me to sit down.

"You owe me huge," he informed me, crossing his arms. "Don't you dare think I'm okay with what you did though. Skipping again? Jesus, kid. Honest, I should've ratted you right out, so you remember this."

"I will." I fixated on his carpet to avoid looking at him. If he looked half as mad as he sounded, I was screwed.

Much to my surprise, he sat down beside me and looped an arm around my shoulder. "Shoot, you're real shook up about this, ain't you?" he sighed.

"You have no idea..."

"Hey, I have a bigger clue than you think," he quipped. "I just went through this with Evie if you remember, so don't act like you're so special in your turmoil."

My heart skipped. I'd forgotten all about that.

"Messed her up so bad she broke up with me," he went on. "She wouldn't even talk to me until last week you know."

"She talked to you?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we might be gettin' back together soon actually." I could hear the immense relief in his voice, but of course he wouldn't talk about her a second longer and went straight back to Angela. "But that ain't important right now... About Angela. I'm _glad_ you're spooked about this. You oughta be."

I buried my face in my heads, afraid I might cry. I wanted to so bad, but I couldn't. It was like I was stuck on the verge of tears, and it was frustrating, worse than the embarrassment of breaking down in front of him for the thousandth time.

I was frozen at that awful point of tension but couldn't let it out no matter how hard I tried. Right now I wanted to be a bawl baby and couldn't.

Steve noticed my frustration and tried to calm me down, but he didn't get very far.

Not even ten minutes later Dad burst in, demanding to know why we'd upset Carol.


	5. Escape

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I looked to Steve and waited for him to answer. Knowing him, he'd come up with a good explanation on the spot. Better than I could at least, and Dad was fuming mad, already slipping back into his old grouchy self. I expected it, yet felt betrayed. Yesterday was a rarity, but it was supposed to be a breakthrough; not a catalyst to a harsher let down. It stung worse to know he was capable of better when he rarely showed it, and ironically, it'd be less emotionally taxing if he'd just be an ogre all the time. That way I wouldn't have to feel guilty for hating him.

"One of you talk," he ordered. "_Now_."

Steve balled his fists at his sides and looked Dad directly in the eye. "Why don't you go ask her yourself? We ain't mind readers."

"She said you don't like her," Dad yelled back. "What the hell'd you say to make her think that? Sounds like you were giving her the same kind if lip you give me, and I tell you what, I ain't gonna tolerate that."

"Nothin'," Steve told him bitterly. "We said _nothin'_."

Dad took a few steps closer to us, arms folded over his chest. "You got three seconds to tell me what happened or you're both in trouble."

I flinched and scooted closer to Steve. He wrapped his arms around me and sighed. "Christ, I ain't gonna fight with you over something this stupid." His voice was strained, like it took every ounce of willpower _not_ to start a fight. I smiled on the inside, proud of him for trying to take the higher road. Maybe he realized he'd make Dad look stupid if he stayed calm. "This is crazy, Charlie."

"It ain't crazy," Dad said sternly. "It ain't crazy at all. Whether you like it or not, she's your stepmother now and you have to respect her."

"People have to earn respect respect, Dad," I added and waited anxiously on his response. I was terrified to be honest—I pushed him a lot yesterday, and who was to say he wouldn't hold a grudge about that—but not terrified enough to told my tongue. Dad needed to understand he, Carol, and anyone else he brought home couldn't demand respect just because they were adults.

Besides, Steve was here if anything went wrong. I had nothing to lose.

"She's got a point," he readily backed me up.

Dad's cheeks reddened and he whipped around, hurling his fist against Steve's dresser. He looked ridiculous, but he was too upset to care.

"Charlie!" a voice screeched from the hallway.

The door swung open a second later, and Carol marched right up to Dad, hands on her hips.

Embarrassed by his outburst, he returned his fists to his sides and forced a tiny smile.

"Damn it, Charlie, you didn't listen to a word I said, and now you're throwin' a tantrum?"

He blinked several times and struggled to maintain eye contact with her. "I heard you loud and clear," he said, trying hard to sound rational. "You said this arrangement wasn't working out so well and that my kids don't like you. Well, I won't tolerate them disrespecting you. I'm just having a little talk with them about it now."

"But they weren't," she said, shaking her head. "It's just this family is so cold and distant, and nothing I can do changes that... Your kids still hate me no matter what. It's frustrating. That's all I meant by it, you don't have to fly off the handle and yell at them!"

She was wrong about us hating her. Well, me at least. I couldn't speak for Steve. _I _didn't hate her. I might've thought it a few times, but it wasn't true hatred. Just annoyance. There was a huge difference.

Dad was speechless. He scratched the side of his head and took in a shallow breath.

"And you never did answer me," Carol continued. "What're you doin' home so early? If your hours continue like this, we won't be able to pay the bills off your salary alone."

"I already told you you wouldn't need to get a job," Dad assured her. "We talked about this, didn't we? You can stay home. I'll earn enough we'll be fine. Don't worry about it, honey."

I swallowed and watched anxiously. He'd struck the wrong nerve. I could tell by the way she was glowering at him. "_Don't worry about it, honey. Don't worry about it, honey,_" she mocked, so much hatred in her voice. "If I had dime for every time Ed ever told me not to worry about somethin', I'd be a very rich woman. Least you came home now. He never did that, but I am getting a job, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"Carol, come on, let's talk about this," Dad begged. "Let's not jump ahead of ourselves."

"What? You got a problem with me working too?" she asked.

"I just don't think a woman should have to," he replied in a failed attempt to sound gentlemanly. "I'm your husband and I should be able to provide for you. Having a job is stressful."

"You don't think I could handle it?"

Dad's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that—"

"It sure sounded like you did," she said, eyes narrowed, tapping her foot again the carpet impatiently. "I tell you what, _I_ turned my ex husband in, _I _testified against him in court, and_ I _supported Shannon on my own for a whole year before you even came back into the picture. I think I can handle a damn job."

"Carol..." Dad started, but she was already walking away. "Carol, wait!"

She turned around right before she reached the door and shot him one hell of a glare. "If you wanna argue some more, fine, but we're doin' it somewheres else. I won't argue with you a second more in front of your kids." With that, she turned around and shut the door behind her.

Dad stood there awkwardly for a moment, staring at the ground. "Sorry. I, um... I jumped to conclusions. You ain't in trouble," he said quietly and excused himself out of the room.

_Wow_ was my only coherent thought_._ Carol had just earned my respect. The way she told off Dad gave me hope we might get along one day, or maybe in the near future.

"Holy shit." If it was possible, Steve looked even more shocked than me. "I'll probably regret saying this later, but I think I like her. Better than Rosie at least..."

I nodded firmly in agreement.

"Don't tell him I said that," Steve added a second later. "Don't you _dare_ tell him I said that."

I emitted a nervous giggle. I wouldn't say a word, but I found it funny Steve didn't want Dad to know he liked his new wife. It was like Steve always had to be against Dad in everything he said and did. If Dad was happy about anything, he couldn't let Dad know he was happy for him. That was asking too much in his books, and though I understood why—he had every right to resent our father and then some, considering all the man had done— it seemed silly sometimes. He went out of his way to show Dad how much he resented him, and that was sad.

Still, there wasn't much I could do about it. My brother was the worst kind of stubborn. He not only heard what he wanted; he did what he wanted in every regard.

xxxx

For the rest of the day, Steve maintained the lie I was sick. At first it was annoying. Being sick meant I was confined to a bed, but I was grateful once I figured out it'd get me out of another family meal. Steve then claimed I wanted his company to get himself out of the same. Even with new found respect for Carol, we weren't on board with "the family" yet, so we shared a very bland meal of crackers and soup in his room, of which he ate the majority.

The lie was becoming reality; the longer the day got, the sicker I felt. I hadn't slept well in weeks. It was fitting I'd get sick sooner or later, but maybe it _was_ just nerves. Curly knew, and I couldn't get over that. I refused to believe it was a good thing. The worst part was her pregnancy wasn't official. I'd been begging her to see a doctor for weeks now to find out once and for all, but she wouldn't. She was afraid the doctor would tell her mother, but maybe she should be more afraid Curly would out her secret. He wouldn't, though, would he? Maybe to Tim, but Tim had be about the last person in the entire universe Angela would want to know.

I had to talk to her. It was too late to warn her, but I _needed_ her to know I didn't tell Curly on purpose..

"I gotta go see her, I gotta talk to her," I blurted out, hopping to my feet.

"You go see her, they'll know you were lyin' about bein' sick," he informed me, grabbing my arms and pulling me back down.

"Maybe you can cover for me though?" I asked, even though I knew there was no way in hell he would agree to it. "Just for an hour," I added. I was desperate.

"Hell no."

I sighed, the corners of my mouth drooping into a frown.

"Before you pout at me, it ain't even possible for me to cover for ya." He poked my arm in annoyance. "I can't account for your missing body. Think about it. They walk in here, ask why you ain't here, what am I gonna say? She vanished into thin air?"

I crossed my arms and gave him a dirty look. "I dunno. Stuff a bunch of pillows under the sheets and say it's me?"

He snorted. "I tried that once when I was thirteen. Didn't work."

Of course it didn't, and I should've been smart enough not to make such a stupid suggestion. I was only giving him more ammo.

He clapped a hand to my shoulder. "Face it, Jule, you're stuck here til morning. By then you can claim you slept off the bug, but for now, enjoy the lie."

"How can I enjoy it when I know Curly's bitching out Angela?" I almost yelled at him. "Damn it, Steve, I have to go see her."

"Listen to me for a sec—" he started.

"_No_."

He pinched my arm and leveled me with a glare. "Listen, I'd be damn shocked if he were bitching her out."

I rolled my eyes. "You'd be bitching me out if it was me." He couldn't deny that. He'd be supportive in the end, but not without lecturing the hell out of me first.

"No, I wouldn't."

I scoffed, and he pinched my arm again. "I _wouldn't_," he repeated. "Honest, I'd be so lost I wouldn't even know what to say to you, let alone …. Jesus, I wouldn't bitch you out, okay? Let's get somethin' straight here. I bitch you out _now_ in hopes I _never_ have to see that day, you got that?"

I swallowed, unsure what to say. He was truly offended by the suggestion, and now I felt awkward.

"Believe me when I say the only person he's truly pissed at right now is the boy who knocked her up," Steve added, so sure of his answer. "You oughta be worried about what he'll do to him. Now that's a real concern. Wouldn't be surprised if he lands the offender in a hospital bed."

I hadn't thought of that. Only Tim would be smart about how they got their revenge. He'd make sure James paid and that neither he nor Curly was charged for it.

"See what I'm talking about?" Steve asked.

I nodded.

"Good," he said, getting up. "Now I gotta get goin'."

His announcement crushed me until I realized it was a Friday night. I should just be glad he'd spent some of his night with me. "Where're you going?"

"Promised Soda I'd help 'im fix up Darry's truck tonight."

"You mean it's fixable? You made it sound like he'd totaled it last night."

"Looked worse than it is," Steve said with a shrug. "The engine's in tact at least. Probably'll look like shit, but it'll run alright when we're done."

"Well—"

Steve held up a hand to silence me. "No more questions. I'm already ten minutes later than I said I'd be. You take it easy, you hear? No sneaking off to Angela's for you."

I yanked fistfuls of my hair and groaned. "Why would I do that?"

He didn't answer me. Just said he'd see me later, which I assumed, knowing him, was tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, and here I was stuck, damned to be bored.

I curled up under the sheets and stared out the window, imagining myself being brave enough to sneak out. _Stop it, Steve warned you, _I reminded myself, but it did no good.

I sat up fast and rubbed my temples. The thought would _not _leave my head. Damn Steve for giving me the idea. _Damn him, damn him, damn him_. It was rash, stupid, and bound to get me in trouble, but it was all I could think about. If I could just talk to Angela for ten minutes and convince her not to hold me responsible, it'd be worth whatever trouble I got in.

It was so appealing, I even daydreamed about it. I envisioned myself opening the window and crawling through it like it was nothing at least a hundred times over the next half hour before I couldn't stand it any longer. I'd do it. I wouldn't be stupid about it either. Of course the idea itself was stupid, but I'd devised a plan to cover it up. A good one at that.

First, I'd wish my father and Carol goodnight. That was the most important step. There were no guarantees they wouldn't check on me later, but if I let them know I was okay upfront, they'd be _less _likely to. Then, I'd make Steve's pillows look like my body in the bed as a back up. If the first part failed, it would fail too, but it didn't hurt to try. Finally, I'd leave the window open a tiny crack, just enough I could let myself back in without having to use any doors.

It _could _work. I couldn't say it _would_ work, but it only needed to get me to Angela's long enough to talk to her. After that, I was willing to put up with the consequences.

I took in a deep breath and watched my hands shake as I exhaled. Several minutes passed, and here I sat, hesitating like crazy. Okay, so maybe I was a little nervous, or _a lot _nervous, about consequences, but I couldn't let the fear stop me from doing it. I needed to talk to Angela. I needed to. I reminded myself over and over again until I garnered enough courage to put the plan into action.

I could do this.

I _would_ do this.

xxxx

Everything worked out beautifully until I arrived at the Shepard's.

I reached their porch and damn near collapsed I'd ran so fast. Curly was sitting on steps smoking. "I need to talk to Angela," I told him frantically.

He gave me quite the look when he noticed me. "You make it a goal in life to show up at the most inconvenient times?"

I clutched my gut to catch my breath and shook my head. "I need to talk to Angela," I repeated.

"Not happening."

I lost my patience then and flat out snapped at him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't talked to her yet."

_Well, too damn bad_, I thought bitterly, but then I processed it a second more, and a wave of relief crashed over me. I plopped down on the step beside him. "Oh, thank God... Don't … don't tell her I told you."

"The hell would I do that for?"

I shrugged.

"After all, you didn't tell me. Ain't your fault you wear the truth all over you."

"I wish I didn't," I said miserably.

"Hey, it ain't such a bad thing. It's why Tim likes you."

"Tim likes me?"

"Well, sure," Curly chuckled. "Likes you best of all her friends. Says he knows if she's lying whenever you're standing next to her, and he's right."

I shoved my face into my hands in embarrassment. Coming here was a stupid idea, and I lost confidence in my plan each passing second. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to Curly. "You should know... she don't know for sure if she's pregnant. It's just speculation."

"You should go home," Curly told me, ignoring my words. The way he said it more of an order than a suggestion. "I'mma talk to Angela in a few minutes, and you don't wanna be there when I do. We got a lot to talk about. The obvious thing, and well, Tim got himself arrested again this afternoon. Got off with two nights jail and fine by some grace of God, and he blew it."

I'd almost forgotten about that. That was just before Christmas, and Angela tried to drag me out for a night of drinking only to get pissy when Curly told her we shouldn't. That was right before she told me she was pregnant. She showed up on my doorstep that very night and dropped everything on me. "What'd he do?" I asked.

"Can't tell ya that," Curly growled. "But I do owe you a thank you. If I hadn't been walkin' you home, I'd have made it back to the lot in time for the fuzz, so thanks I guess, but you can forget all about your thanks if you don't scram soon."

I stood up and nodded weakly.

"Come back tomorrow." He looked up at me earnestly. "I mean that. You're a great friend for Angel. She'd probably appreciate seein' ya, and it'd do me quite a favor. She ain't gonna be pleasant, you know. Tim'll probably be put away a long time. Surely he can't get lucky twice when he's been picked up back to back, so you know she's bound to be upset about it on top of … well, her personal troubles."

"I will," I promised him and scurried off before he'd decide to walk me home, same as he did this afternoon. He was concerned about Steve then—what Steve'd do if he heard he let me walk home by my lonesome—but I guess he was too upset about the current happenings to consider that this time. I didn't blame him. Poor kid had a lot of deal with.

I walked as fast as I could, determined to get home before my plan flopped. It was dark out, and I was second-guessing every step I'd taken, especially whether or not I'd left the window open wide enough to get back in. The uncertainty drove me crazy. I wavered back and forth. Back and forth until I'd worked myself up so much I decided I couldn't go home in case I was locked out. It was late on a Friday night, meaning Dad probably had had a few drinks by now, meaning … I didn't wanna think about it. The risks I should've considered beforehand were _clear _now, and the solution to my problem was just as much a disaster waiting to happen.

I'd go to the Curtis's. Steve had once told me they never locked their door. Even if no one was home, I could get in, and that was comforting to me right now; not to mention their house was closer than mine, an every creak and rustle was amplified as I walked through our neighborhood _alone_. I was such an idiot.

The only problem was Steve. If he wasn't there now, he would be there later, and I knew I was walking myself right into an explosion.


	6. A Brief Reprieve

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

When Pony answered the door, he couldn't have looked more surprised to see me, if not annoyed. He didn't show it on his face, but his shoulders were slumped, and he had a book tucked under his arm with his finger jammed between the pages, suggesting I'd interrupted his reading.

"Hey, Julia, Steve's at the DX with Soda if you're lookin' for 'im."

I hung my head down to the ground and avoided eye contact with him. I hadn't thought this through at all. Couldn't even offer a "hello", and Pony had to be wondering why the hell I was standing here, but it was better than going home. Better than pressing my luck with Dad.

"Did, uh, something happen?" Pony asked.

_Think, think, think. Say something already. You look like an idiot._ I looked up and shook my head. Damn it, he looked concerned, and my silence wasn't helping.

"You okay?"

My hands trembled. I was fine. Just embarrassed.

"I can walk you there if you want," he offered. "It's kinda late."

I almost said yes just to buy myself more time, but I couldn't do that. Steve would be furious if I pretended something terrible had happened when it was only my own dumb choices. "No, that's fine," I muttered. "I, uh, snuck out."

"Pardon?"

"I snuck out," I repeated, a little louder. "And I, um … my dad … he ... Forget it."

"Steve's told us plenty about him." Pony opened the door wider and waved his hand for me to come in. "You can hang out here 'til he and Soda come back."

I followed him in reluctantly. I could only imagine all the horrible things Steve had told them about our father, and even though most of it was true, I felt the need to defend him. There was a reason I was afraid to go home, but Dad wasn't a monster. Pony was inviting me in out of pity, and I couldn't stand it.

"You, um, want anything to eat or drink?" he asked me.

"No thanks." I was hungry and thirsty, but I'd already imposed enough, so I plopped down on their couch and tries to be as quiet and invisible as humanly possible. God, this was awkward. So, _so_ awkward.

He looked at me like he had something more to say, but he didn't.

"Thanks for letting me stay," I added, forcing myself to smile to let him know appreciated his kind gesture, even if I felt lousy.

"No problem." He took a seat in the chair next to the couch and went back to reading that book. I tried not to stare at him as he read it, but it was hard not to. The way he poured himself into that book was incredible. He cared about that book as much as Steve cared about the cars he fixed, and that was a rare thing in our neighborhood, especially for a guy. Liking books wasn't high on the list of "tuff" things for greasers to do.

"Hey, Julia, I heard this rumor about Angela. Just wonderin' if you knew anything about it.."

Pony's voice caught me offguard. One, I didn't expect him to talk to me. Two, if it was about what I thought it was...

"That is if you don't mind me asking," he added.

I bit down on my lower lip and nodded for him to continue. "No, it's fine."

He dog-eared a page in the book and set it down next to him with a sigh. "Some chick told me she broke up with Bryon, that true?"

"For now, I guess." I tried to stop the nervous giggle creeping up my throat. It was such a relief he didn't ask about her being pregnant, I could hardly contain it. "I mean, you never _really_ know with her." She said they were gonna "just be friends" or something like that—but I _knew_ Angela, and I knew they could be back together in a heartbeat. She cycled and recycled boyfriends left and right, and Bryon made a grave mistake thinking she'd be loyal to him. Not that I knew for sure what he thought, but it seemed like _he_ wanted to keep the relationship going, and she could care less what they did. He couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else. Whenever she flirted with another boy, he'd get jealous, and rightfully so, but Bryon didn't suffer in silence no more than she did. They'd just fight and fight and fight, which, of course, Angela adored. Apparently he was more passionate than the other boys—and a damn good kisser when he was mad, whatever sense that made.

"They think it's 'cause she fancies me," Pony went on. "Swore it was just a rumor, but if she and Bryon are really broken up now, maybe she … I dunno. It's probably just a rumor."

Christ, he looked uncomfortable. "Honest, I don't think you got anything to worry about now," I tried to assure him, and it was the truth. She often talked about the boys she was going to pursue in great detail. I'd hear about them for weeks before she ever made her move, and Pony's name hadn't been brought up in a while.

It was kind of sad he didn't like her actually. I didn't blame him for not wanting to date her, but it'd be nice for her to just once have a decent boyfriend. Bryon wasn't awful, but Pony seemed like he'd be nicer boyfriend.

"Who told you this anyway?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Can't remember her same. Some eighth grader or ninth grader. Friend of hers, I think..."

"If her name's Candy, it's bullshit."

His eyes widened. "That sounds familiar. Must've been her."

"Like I said, bullshit," I repeated. "Don't believe a word she says. She's fucking crazy."

He cringed again. I couldn't decide if it was the information we were discussing, my cussing, or both, but he looked like he wanted to run and hide under something.

"Trust me, she's probably just saying that 'cause she wants to be with Bryon," I rambled on. "And she knows Angela liked you. Probably trying to set you two up, so she can steal Bryon. She's like it. Just a huge drama queen."

"I hope you're right, 'cause it ain't happenin'," Pony stated firmly. "I mean, I'd rather be single the rest of my life than date..." The door swung open and Pony gasped.

I jumped, too, thinking it was Steve and Soda, but it was just Darry, which from the look on Pony's face wasn't as much of a relief for him as it was for me.

Darry glanced at me and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"She needs a place to stay for a little bit," Pony explained. "Just until Steve gets here. It's not like I invited her over or nothin'..."

Darry reached for the book, and Pony quickly tried to hide it, but he hadn't moved fast enough.

Darry already had it between his fingers and shifted his eyes down to the cover.

Pony crossed his arms and huffed, "You_ never_ said I couldn't read when I was grounded."

Darry glanced up from the book, his eyes shooting daggers at Pony. "Yeah, but I did say you couldn't go anywhere, and would you look at this?" He flipped the book around and pointed to the binding. "Does this say it's from the Will Rogers high school library?"

Pony uncrossed his arms and went white in the face. "I went to the public library earlier this week to do some research for a paper I'mma write... _For English_, and I decided to pick up a few books for fun while I was at it..." He flashed Darry a tiny smile. "You know, I gotta have somethin' to do while I'm grounded."

Darry scoffed and tapped him over the head with the book. "If it was really for that, why didn't you just ask me if you could go? Where are these other books anyway? I wanna see 'em."

I held my breath for Pony. He'd really walked himself into a corner with this, and it was painful to watch.

"Jesus, Darry, you didn't even ground Soda when he wrecked the truck, and you wanna get on me for this?"

_Ouch_. That had to sting for Darry to hear just as much as it bothered Pony.

"You don't have any other books, do you?" Darry snapped right back. "Well, you're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight I could ground you longer if I wanted, but I won't. There's worse things you coulda done than go to a library, for Christ's sakes, but if I find any movie ticket stumps or receipts from places you ain't supposed to go, there's gonna be hell to pay..."

I couldn't be 100% sure, but it seemed like he'd just changed his mind on the spot at the hands of Pony's comment.

"Darry," Pony started again.

"You really wanna argue with me when I let you off the hook?"

"Just, this is … embarrassing," he mumbled and glanced at me briefly.

"We can go talk about this more somewhere else if that's what you're getting at," Darry offered, bobbing his head towards the kitchen.

"Never mind," Pony sighed loudly.

I swore Darry might've yelled at him for that, but he just gave him one heck of a look and walked away.

Pony held the book between his hands, but he wouldn't open it or read it. He just stared at the binding.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, when Steve gets here, he'll probably yell at me more than Darry just yelled at you," I said in hopes of cheering him up. It was true anyway.

Pony looked confused by my words. "Why? He hates your Dad. You just tell him you were scared to go home and he'll probably understand."

I bit my tongue. He couldn't have been more wrong about that, but I didn't feel like telling him everything that led up to me sneaking out tonight. He'd have to know the whole story to understand why Steve'd be pissed—to understand that my dad wasn't the monster; that _I_'d screwed up.

"Must suck though when he does yell at ya," Pony mused. "I mean, he says real mean stuff to me sometimes, and I'm not even related to him."

He had _no_ idea. Well, actually, he probably did. Steve sure whined about him enough, it was easy to believe he'd been an ass to him on occasion. Pony even went on to tell me about a few times my brother had said something clever to him.

In fact, he probably would've told me more stories if Darry hadn't reemerged.

He took a few steps towards me and raised an eyebrow. "Steve know you're here?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "No, not exactly."

He folded his arms and gave me a suspicious look. "You think I maybe oughta call the DX and let him know?"

I hesitated. At least he hadn't suggested _I_ call him, but I wasn't sure this was any better.

"I dunno if he was coming back here or to your place," Darry drawled on. "Don't want him to worry if goes home, and you ain't there. Might be a good idea to call.

Shit, I hadn't even thought of that as a possibility... "Yeah, maybe you oughta," I agreed, wide-eyed.

He nodded and headed back into the kitchen to use the phone.

I tensed up and listened carefully from where I sat in hopes I could hear the conversation, but I could barely make out Darry's end of it.

"Hey, like I said, he probably won't be that mad," Pony piped up.

It was sweet of him to try, but there was no way it wouldn't be bad.

The look on Darry's face when he returned was very telling. "You're lucky I thought of that," he said. "Steve says he was just about to head home."

"Is he mad?" _Of course he is. Don't ask such a stupid question. _

Darry snorted. "Oh yeah, and I dunno if I blame him from what he said..."

I nodded and kept quiet. I didn't even wanna know what Steve had told him.

Pony and Darry were quiet too. I could sense lingering tension over the mini fight they'd had seconds ago, and I guess neither of them felt like talking to each other. Steve said Pony liked to give Darry hell, but it looked like it went both ways to me. Hell, if anything, I was inclined to side with Pony...

It seemed like forever before the door opened, and I flinched when it did.

Much to my shock, Soda walked through it without my brother.

"Where's Steve?" I asked him impatiently. Not that I wanted to see him, but if he was here, it'd be best to get it over with.

"Waiting for you in his car," Soda informed me. "Wants to talk to you alone."

I got up slowly and drug my feet to the door.

"Good luck," Pony called after me. I wanted to throw an "I told you so at him", but I didn't.

"Hey, don't worry too much, I told him to be nice," Soda said with a wink. Whether or not he had, I didn't know, but it was hardly comforting.

I reached for the doorknob and paused for a second. "Thanks for letting me stay," I said in a small voice.

Pony and Soda both assured me it wasn't a problem.

Darry said nothing. He seemed fully aware I was at fault for this, and though it was such a simple reaction, it weirded me out. It made me wonder how much Steve had ever mentioned about me to him. I hadn't thought about it before, but they were kind of in similar positions. Of course my father wasn't dead, but through various circumstances Steve had been forced to look after me. Just this Christmas break for example. Dad knowingly left Steve in charge for weeks. I guess that was why I wanted to take Pony's side in the minor argument...

I took a deep breath and opened the door before I could hesitate anymore. As I shut it, I heard Soda tell Darry they were able to fix up his truck and that he was sorry Darry had to walk to and from work today. I wanted to press my ear against the door to hear the rest of the conversation, but Steve was waiting for me just like Soda had said.

I could barely make out his facial features in the dark, but I didn't need a clear look to know I was screwed.


	7. Wounded

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I approached the passenger side of his car slowly and paused in front of it. My knees locked up, and my feet felt like they were glued to the pavement.

Steve reached over and popped the door open. "Quit standin' around, and get in."

"Sorry," I managed and crawled into the seat.

"Save your apologies."

"Sorry," I whispered again as I shut the door.

"What'd I just say?"

Damn it, it wasn't on purpose. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. He already close to yelling. Any second now my eardrums would ache...

"You're not sorry," he told me, so certain of it. "So don't even bother with that bullshit. All you're doin' is pissing me off more."

"Sorry," I muttered only to catch myself a moment later. "I mean, you were right about Curly... What you said."

Silence. _Shit_, not even telling him he was right could appease him. "Steve—"

"I don't even know what to say to you."

"I _had_ to, Steve. I already tried to explain that to you, but—"

"But what? I told you it was a stupid idea? If Charlie figures out you've missing, he's gonna be worried sick."

"So?" I glanced at him and heaved an annoyed sigh. "Since when do you give a damn what he thinks?"

"Shut up." His eyes shot at mine, and I glanced down quickly.

"He still thinks you're sick, you know," Steve added. "He and Carol both, and hell, I was gonna go home 'til Darry called me, 'cause even though you told me you was fakin', I was startin' to think you actually were getting sick. Think that wouldn't have given me a heart attack? To come home and not see you there?"

I nodded, head still down. "You're right … I guess."

"You guess so? That all you can say to me?"

I grimaced. Apparently I couldn't say I was sorry, so I figured that was the next best thing. "Please don't tell Dad," I begged.

"Well, I got news for you. I already did."

"But you just said he'd be worried if he found out..." My heart raced so fast, I could feel the pounding throughout my body. He wouldn't, would he?

"I lied," Steve confirmed. "Wanted to see if any of that got to ya, and clearly you don't seem to care if you worried anyone in the least bit. Not him. Not me. Called him right after I hung up with Darry. Made up some lie, can't even remember what, but he fell for it. Blamed me, you know. Says I probably helped you sneak out, and you wanna know why? 'Cause you stuffed a bunch of goddamned pillows under the covers. Did the same thing when I was your age, and he still remembers it. I told you about that. Did I not tell you that was a stupid idea?"

I nodded and caught the urge to roll my eyes before it happened. He had, but it was only a backup plan. The real plan was no one find out ever, but I didn't think far enough ahead to realize I'd be too scared to sneak myself back in. Sneaking myself out was the easy part. _This_ was hard. I sighed. I felt so bad arguing with him now. It was instinct. I knew I was wrong and knew if I had gone home Dad would have as much of aright to be upset, but I couldn't keep my trap shut. Whenever the "I told you so's" started, I had too many things I wanted to say. Plus, he kept assuming he knew what I thought when he didn't. I wasn't sorry. I didn't care. What else was he gonna throw at me?

"You even listening to me?"

"Yes."

"I guess you'll be thrilled to hear the real kicker then," he sneered. "He thinks this is all 'cause I hate Carol. 'Cause I don't wanna let you two bond or somethin'. That's why _I _snuck you out."

I curled my lip under my teeth, trying as hard as I could to follow Dad's train of thought. I couldn't. "But that doesn't make any sense!"

"Does he ever make sense when he's drunk and rambling?"

I didn't know what to say to that. Once. One time he made sense, and that was just the other night when he told me about what happened with Jack's mom, and now I was scared. Maybe his drunken ramblings this time revealed he really did resent Steve... And for what? I liked Steve better than him? It was true. I loved them both, but I trusted Steve a thousand times more.

The silent tension between us was awful. Steve kneaded his temples between his fingers, like he was putting real effort into calming himself down. I wasn't sure if that was comforting or frightening. Comforting in that he was trying; frightening he was so upset he had to.

He pulled his hands away from his face and sighed. "I get why you did it, so don't think it's that..."

I clenched my teeth together and dug my fingertips into my knees. That was … unexpected. "What?"

"I get why you did it," he repeated, his voice was loud against the quiet. "You don't want your best friend thinkin' you outed her deepest secrets."

This was such a reprieve and yet, all I could do was pick out his fault. "I already told you that... did Soda tell you to say this?"

"No," he shot back so fast the answer was yes—_yes_, he had.

I smirked. "I should thank Soda, huh?"

He smacked my arm. "You should shut up is what you should do, an' don't get your hopes up. None of this means I ain't still mad at ya. I'm pretty … I'm pretty fuckin' pissed, alright? I mean, I'm pissed. I'm just … I'm just pissed!"

I slunk down the back of the passenger seat, aware he had plenty right to be, aware I probably shouldn't held my tongue instead of getting snappy at him, but again, it was instinct. With Steve, you always had to seize an opportunity for a comeback when it came your way.

"You realize how many times I've done this now? How many times I make up something to keep you out of trouble with 'im? At my own expense, might I add?"

I shook my head. I didn't wanna know because the number was too high for both our liking.

"And you just take it for granted, don't you?"

"I don't," I tried to assure him. I felt so light-headed, and I wanted to throw up.

"You do," he persisted. "You ain't sorry, and you take it for granted, 'cause you expect it. You take risks like this 'cause you know I'll bail you out."

"_No_." I sprang forward in my seat and shook my head violently. How could he accuse me of that? How could he know whether or not I was sorry? How could he know any of this stuff? He wasn't me. He didn't live in my brain. He didn't know.

He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know!

"Well, I dunno what fantasy world you're living in, 'cause you are." He shook his head at me disapprovingly. "You been takin' all sorts of these risks lately. You want me to run through the list? Jesus, you'd think you suffer short term memory loss the way you been denyin' it."

I opened my mouth, but all I got out was a tiny gasp. He was right, but not about everything. I truly was sorry. "I am sorry though," I managed a moment later only to strike the wrong nerve.

Before I could even take my next breath, he'd grabbed me by my shoulders. "Sorry don't mean shit, 'cause it's a worthless word. If you really feel bad, if you really mean it, you'd stop doing it, but no, you just throw '_I'm sorry, I'm sorry'_ at me like he does. Like it'll just make it better. You're just like him that way."

_Like who?_ I almost asked, but I knew the answer, and it stung. It stung so much. I usually said sorry 'cause I was scared, 'cause_ he_ acted like him. Not always, but enough. More than me at least, and I wanted to tell him that so bad.

I didn't get a chance. He let go of me and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

I chased after him. "Where're you goin'?"

"We ain't goin' home, and we ain't sleepin' in my car," he asserted, seizing my arm and dragging me all the way into the Curtis's.

Once we were standing in the entryway, things got awkward fast. If if was possible, there was maybe even more tension between them than there was me and Steve. At least it halted my thoughts momentarily. I was more concerned with figuring out what was going on than stewing over how unfair Steve was being.

"Damn it, Pony, knock it off," Soda snapped, which seemed uncharacteristic of him, so my eyes locked on him immediately. "You weren't there, how would you know?"

Pony's face paled. I hadn't heard the whole thing, but it wasn't hard to see Soda's snap hurt him more than anything Darry had told him earlier. "I was too!"

"Not all of it," Soda went on, losing patience with each word he soaked. "You went and sulked in your room while we was talkin' outside, 'cause you were just as pissed at me."

"So he _did_ ground you?"

Soda sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, Pony," he said calmly.

Pony whipped around to face Darry. "How's that fair?"

"Ponyboy," Darry warned under his breath, but he didn't get a chance to say something more.

Soda was almost shaking he'd grown so frustrated. "He punched me, damn it. That good enough for ya? And I punched him back."

I don't think Pony heard the second part. He just lashed right out at Darry. "You _what_?"

Steve let go of my arm finally and pulled Pony away from Darry. "Chill out, will ya? It ain't a big deal. He punched Soda, Soda punched him back. They're even, and obviously you're the one who can't get over it."

"He's right, Pony," Soda agreed. "I'm over it now, and you should be too."

Pony looked embarrassed. As embarrassed as he was angry, and he took off for his room.

I heard the door slam, and Steve rolled his eyes.

Soda and Darry both glared at him.

"What?" He raised his hands in the air innocently. "I tried to help."

Darry rushed towards Pony's room. "I'mma go talk to him."

"I dunno about that," Soda told him. "Maybe I should later."

Darry glowered. "Well, you certainly didn't help anything. You _really_ need to tell him that?"

"I was frustrated," Soda defended himself. "I can't be Mr. Calm all the damn time, so just 'cause I snapped and you didn't don't make you can attack me. And so what you didn't ground me. I'm seven-fuckin'-teen. Ain't it obvious it wouldn't even be appropriate?"

"Don't be so sure about that, little buddy. I just might if you don't watch your damn attitude," Darry told him, still headed towards Pony's door.

Soda scoffed. Darry grounding him didn't clearly threaten him at all. "Well, this is great, you got your little sis here, and we're acting like this," Soda griped to Steve. "Fucking hell."

A split second later, he apologized for the cussing, but Steve and I weren't bothered by it. Only him.

"It's her own fault she's here," Steve replied, giving me quite a look.

I returned the dirty look. It was funny he was pissed at Pony for not getting over something when he was doing the exact thing to me.

"No, I don't mean that like she shouldn't be here," Soda corrected himself, flashing me as friendly of a smile as he could manage in his irritation. "Just be nice if we weren't at each other's throats right now. Jesus, Darry didn't even punch me that hard, and I was in the wrong anyway... Thank Christ we were able to get 'er all patched up tonight. I might've never lived it down, but just when I think we're over it and I've fixed everything, Pony thinks Darry's being unfair, and there we go again..."

"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "My brother fights with me all the time."

"Really?" Soda smirked. "I find that hard to imagine..."

Steve glared at me and then at Soda. Soda ignored the look and kept talking.

"He ain't used to it the way me and Darry are, I guess," he mused, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Mom never liked it when we was rough around him. Couldn't even pretend fight or she'd have a cow, but we beat on each other all the time. It was fun. Least until I figured Darry went easy on me and let me win sometimes, 'cause he didn't wanna hurt my feelings."

That at least got a chuckle out of Steve. "Shit, I remember that You wanted to take him on for real and everything. Got mad at me when I told you it wasn't a good idea."

"I could now though," Soda insisted.

No, he couldn't. He could maybe hold his own for a while, but there was no way he'd win. Darry was huge and scary looking. He could probably take on all the guys Angela's brothers hung out with just by himself.

Steve said exactly what I was thinking, and they bickered about it a little, argued about who, between the two of them, would have a better shot at winning against Darry. It seemed to be in good fun, but I found it annoying. Why was it even important? Why did they _want_ to fight each other?

"He could probably beat you both up at the same time," I pointed out.

Steve turned to me and shook his head. "You don't even know him that well."

"Yeah, Julia," Soda taunted. "Darry looks huge, but me and your brother here, we've taken on bigger."

"Together? That don't mean nothin'. Two on one ain't a fair fight."

Soda laughed. "Nah, don't mean together. Shoot, if we took someone on together, he'd wind up in the ER. Right, Steve?"

Steve appeared too irritated to comment. Not at Soda, though. At me.

I crossed my arms. "What?"

Steve narrowed his eyes and tried to stare me down. He was still frustrated over what we'd talked about in the car. Why couldn't he just let it go for a second? Any time it finally got calm, bam, he lost his temper just as fast.

And the worst part was it didn't matter what I said. Everything provoked it. He was just hellbent on being angry. "What? I can't talk at all?"

"Not if you ain't got nothin' nice to say."

That made no sense. I hadn't said anything mean. I was just joking around with Soda, and Steve was so pissed he couldn't handle the sound of my voice period. It wasn't fair. "I guess you better not talk anymore than either. _Ever_. You're never nice."

"Julia, I swear—"

"Swear what?"

Soda stepped between us. "Hey, is this really worth this?"

"He thinks I'm like our father, so yeah, I'd say it is," I spewed out.

"What?" Soda asked, confused. "Why the hell would he think that?"

"'Cause he said it," I insisted, despite the fact Steve looked like he wanted to strangle me. "He said I'm just like him and I don't mean it when I apologize."

"Well, excuse me for pointing it out, but it really seems like it lately the way you been acting," Steve shot back. "If you're so bothered by it, maybe you oughta think about the shit you do before you do it. You ever pause and think maybe that's the point I'm trying to make in all this?"

"You're acting just like him too," I yelled. "Yelling at me without even giving me a chance to explain myself."

"Okay, okay," Soda broke in. "Obviously you're both pissed at him. Why're you takin' it out on each other?"

"Yeah," I promptly agreed, oddly wanting to burst into tears over how much sense that made.

"Ain't that simple," Steve balked, folding his arms over his chest. "Easy for you to say when you ain't the one who pays for it. I take the blame every single time."

He did. I couldn't deny that, but the thing was it bothered me just as much to see Dad wrongfully angry at him than to be in trouble myself. Maybe even more.

I felt queasy and backed myself up to the nearest wall to steady myself.

Soda started whispered stuff at Steve, but I couldn't make it out. I already regretted what I said. Soda probably didn't need to know this, but it felt so good to get it out there. It was like I had a means to call Steve on his bullshit without confronting him myself, but now it just seemed stupid. I hadn't forgotten I was the one most at fault. I slid my back down the wall until I was seated, pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them, mortified I couldn't keep it together anymore. If I had to be honest with myself, I'd wanted to cry since I left the Shepard's, and now I couldn't control it anymore. Arguing with Steve only kept the tears at bay for so long and made it worse in the end. I was just scared. Scared of going home. Scared of how Steve was acting. He could be real mean, sure, but not like this. Assuming I wasn't sorry or that I didn't care about any of this when I _did_.

"What the hell's goin' on _now_?"

The new voice was Darry's.

I looked up briefly. Soda started explaining things to him, and Steve walked towards me slowly.

"You okay?" Steve asked, crouching down in front of me. He sounded frustrated but not angry. Thank God not angry. I couldn't be sure if I was my tears or Soda that had finally calmed him down, but I was glad for it. I breathed easier.

"Yeah, about the yelling, Darry." Steve turned to him briefly. "We'll be leaving shortly..."

Darry gave an understanding nod, but a second later, he headed off down the hallway with a look on his face that said this bullshit all better be over by morning.

"You don't really have to go," Soda told us. "He's probably just embarrassed we were fighting when you walked in."

"I think we oughta," Steve insisted, tone so heavy and tired.

I agreed. Not that I wanted an explosion when we walked through the door, which was more than likely at this point, but at least I could sleep when my head finally hit the pillow. Wouldn't have to worry about anything, because it'd be _over_. I wouldn't sleep a wink here, worrying over Dad all night.

Steve told Soda he'd see him tomorrow and helped me up, pulling me towards the door with him. He had a gentle hold on my arm this time and walked slow enough he wasn't dragging me.

When we got in his car, he paused before starting it. "Listen, what I said about you and Charlie—I mean, _Dad_—I don't think that at all."

I shrugged.

"And I lied to you," he added. "I mean, I lied twice."

"What?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I should've just told you right away, but I dunno... I wanted you to think about it first or somethin'. I didn't call him. He flipped out when he realized you were missing and went looking for you. Found me at the DX with Soda. He was plastered and worried as heck... Told I'm I'd take care of it, and he oughta go home, 'cause he ain't in no condition to be wandering around looking for you."

"Oh..."

"He was too upset to listen," he explained. "Mumbled a bunch of shit I could hardly make out and took off."

"But didn't Darry call you?" I asked him. I remembered that. I saw it happen.

"Yeah, and thank Christ, he did. I was_ just_ about to leave the DX too. He don't even know the whole story, but at least he smart enough to figure out it was strange you was hangin' around their place without me."

My lips felt numb. I wanted to scream, and the tears out-poured again. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. "Why didn't you just take me home right away? What if he's there now? Worried? About both of us?"

"I called Carol," Steve managed, voice tight. "Once Darry told me you were there, I didn't worry so much about finding you anymore, and Soda well, he didn't think it was a good idea for me to be around you with how mad I was, but I wanted her to know Charlie was still roaming around looking for ya when you were found and alright. She called me back, saying he'd come home, not too long after."

"So he's okay? He's there now and okay?"

"I dunno about okay. He's probably pretty shook up still."

Somehow that didn't feel like the whole truth. It still felt like half truths. There was something more. "Steve, what happened?" I pressed.

"I already told you," he hissed. "That's all."

I bit down on my lip. No, it wasn't. There had to be more.

"Alright, fine, you're right," he admitted faster than I expected. "Carol said the neighbors came over threatening to call the cops on us 'cause of the noise, and she wasn't sure if they would or not... He was yelling in the background, so it wouldn't surprise me."

I could hardly breathe. "Oh my god, I just wanted to fucking talk to Angela..."

"Well, was it worth it?" he asked.

No … clearly not, and it added so much insult to the injury to hear him say it, but for once, he didn't seem to care I'd swore. That was good, right?

No. I still felt like my brain was gonna implode. He wanted to make a point, and I understood that, but I was exhausted. Guilty and angry at the same time. Guilty for many reasons, but angry all this had to come out of one selfish wish of mine. Just one little thing and well-intentioned too. Was it wrong to care about my best friend? Apparently yes.

Steve hooked an arm around me and sighed. "Hey, it's alright," he told me. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not _alright _you just took off like that, but I guess there was a reason he thought I was to blame if I really think about it. I've done similar, you know? God, if I told you about all the times, you'd think I used to be an idiot, and let's not even get started on him. What's he done lately? And while we're at it, not just _lately_. I'd say you could call it even. It wouldn't even be _even_ by a long shot. He's let you done more than you ever did him.

"I dunno."

"Just don't do it again, and you'll be fine."

"I dunno."

He was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn't feel better yet. I couldn't even apologize despite the strongest apologetic urge I'd felt all night because I couldn't stop thinking about all the things he said. What if he still thought I wasn't sorry?

The words replayed again and again, and I'd be thinking about them for a long time no matter how kind he was for the rest of the night.


	8. Lost Cause

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

The second I walked through the door I was yanked forward. I flinched, anticipating a slap or two, or maybe even a series of blows. Anything but what happened. Dad had pulled me into a painfully tight embrace and mumbled something about how worried he'd been. I tensed up from head to toe, but he didn't notice. He squeezed harder and repeated the incoherent utterances. He sounded relieved, angry, and terrified at the same time, and though the hug was nice, the first thought that ran through my head was how much he reeked. It was an awful combination of booze, smoke, and sweat, and I wanted—no, _needed_—him to back off and let me to go to bed. Oddly, it'd have been more welcome if he'd just started yelling at me.

"Jesus, Charlie." Steve pried me out of Dad's arms. "You tryin' to suffocate her?"

Dad ignored Steve and stepped closer, extending his arm to rest his hand on my shoulder. "You okay, honey?"

I nodded.

"I told you I'd find her," Steve told him, almost smugly.

Dad took another step towards us, and Steve tugged me back a few more inches, wrapping his own arms around me.

"Where were you?" Dad ran a hand through his hair and rested the other against the nearby wall to balance himself. It wasn't a demand, just an honest question.

"I, um..." I hesitated, hoping Steve would do the talking. I couldn't keep the lies straight. Not just mine, whatever ones Steve had told him as well.

A few beats of silence passed, and then Steve pinched my arm to assert this was my story to explain, not his. I sighed. For trying to be subtle, it wasn't subtle at all because he was far from gentle about it. It hurt.

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed," I said quietly.

I crept forward, but Steve didn't let me out of his grip, and Carol cleared her throat. "You're not going anywhere without givin' us an explanation first. You told us you was sick earlier. Something ain't adding up."

I glanced at her. I hadn't noticed her yet, but she was seated on the couch with her arms folded over her chest. Dad took his hand off the wall and zigzagged over to her. "Your mo— _stepmother's_ right," he said, shaking a finger in my direction. "You … you listen to her."

"You realize how dangerous that is for a girl to wander around by herself?" Carol continued. "Especially at night? Tulsa's a big city, and this neighborhood—"

"I know," I snapped, despite wanting to hold my tongue. It wasn't her as much as Dad. If she hadn't brought this up, he probably wouldn't have said a damn thing.

"Julia, there is no reason to talk back to us like this," Carol warned.

_Us_? What did she mean _us_? It was just her. Dad was always so eager to pass off responsibility to someone else. I guess, even for something as simple as yelling at me. I'd have thought given the number of times he'd made my eardrums ache in the past he could've at least managed that. "I'm just tired," I offered through gritted teeth.

"You should've stayed in bed then."

"I know."

"You're grounded for two weeks."

"What?" I gasped.

"That's right," she said. "And you can go straight to your room and think about this too. Think about how dangerous it was and how many awful things could've happened to you, 'cause you don't seem to understand that."

Her words sent me straight into a frenzy.

I couldn't even pause to think. I broke away from Steve and lunged at her. "What the hell makes you think you can ground _me_ when you can't even make Shannon behave?"

For being so strict and collected, she was far from it now. She quickly shot to her feet, shielded her eyes with her hand, and hustled out of the living room.

I stared in shock. I meant to upset her, but not like that. That was weird and not normal. I must've picked the worst thing possible to say.

I turned and glanced at my brother and father. Steve confirmed my suspicion with a glare, and Dad appeared lost.

Steve shook his head at me and flipped to Dad. "You gonna do anything, Charlie? Anything at all?"

Dad located his pack in his pocket and sprinted for the front door. I rushed to the window and peeked out the curtains, afraid he was leaving, but he'd just collapsed himself down to the front steps and lit the cigarette between his lips.

I guess the answer to Steve's question was no. Unless smoking counted.

Steve grabbed my arm and drug me away from the window. "Did I not tell you about her ex?" he whispered harshly, fingers cutting deep into my arm. "Did it not occur to you she was sayin' what she was '_cause_ of that?"

Oh God, I knew I'd said the wrong thing. My knees buckled, and I tried to catch my breath as everything clicked in my head. What I'd said was a low blow. If Shannon had been … of course Carol would … I couldn't think about it directly. It made me sick to my stomach.

"Hey!"

Steve and I both jumped to see Shannon. It was as though she sensed she was being talked about.

Once she knew she had our attention, she mumbled something about yelling, and I felt responsible.

"You can go back to bed, everything's fine now," I tried to assure her in a kind tone, but she didn't move an inch.

Steve inched forward. I forced my way in front of him and walked the rest of the way to where she stood, about to topple over in her sleepiness. I took her hand in mine and guided her back into the room.

Steve followed behind us and leaned against the door frame.

"Maybe we can play with our Barbies tomorrow," she whispered to me as I helped her into her bed. "I found one of yours today."

She'd found the only one I'd owned then, and I was tempted to snap at her for snooping through my stuff. She could keep the doll for all I cared as long as she didn't mess with anything else, but it was late, and I already felt like shit for everything else that had happened tonight. Fighting with her would only make me feel worse. "Yeah, maybe," I agreed, tossing her covers over her sloppily.

Steve watched me as I did. I glared at him in hopes he'd go away. It was eerie.

He didn't. I sighed and moved to my own bed, nearly knocking my knee on the bedpost because the room was twice as small with two twin beds. Steve probably just wanted to talk to me, and I wasn't interested in talking to anybody anymore. Not because I wanted to be mopey—okay, maybe a little—but mostly because I was afraid of what might slip out if I opened my mouth again. I was on a roll tonight and not in a good way.

Shannon stayed in her bed for all of ten seconds, rolling off hers and crawling into mine without bothering to ask if she could. "I like having a sister." She curled herself up beside me and closed her eyes. "I wish Steve were a girl, so I could have two sisters."

I looked to Steve and smirked. He gagged, molded his hand into the shape of a gun, and pressed it to his temple.

I stuck my tongue out at him. Being a girl was shitty, but it wasn't_ that_ bad.

When I was Shannon's age, I wished Steve were a girl too, but if he were a girl, things would be much worse. So many new things to fight over. Clothes, shoes, makeup... Pretty much everything? Jeez, it'd be like having an older, more mature Angela as my sister, and nobody needed that. Angela was already enough of a sister to me. We sure bickered like sisters sometimes, and now I had _this_ sister—the one half drooling on my leg because she was nearly asleep again. I gritted my teeth and hoped if I shoved her off me in a minute, she'd stay asleep. She was gross … and annoying … and _gross_, and ugh, I couldn't find it in me to move her. It was nice she liked me, real nice actually, and I could stand to treat her better.

"She finally out?" Steve approached me and sat on the edge of the bed.

Nope, she wasn't. She popped her eyes open and bounced up immediately. "No boys allowed!"

"Steve's a nice boy," I told her, holding her shoulders to keep her on the bed. "Well, most of the time at least..."

She looked unconvinced, scrunching her nose and eyebrows into an angry scowl. "No, tell him to go away."

I tried to reason with her. For some reason I changed my mind and wanted him to stay now, but she would not budge at all. No boys. No Steve. _No_ boys. _No_ Steve.

Steve tapped my shoulder and shook his head at me to quit trying. Apparently I was more annoyed than him. I exhaled a heavy breath and hugged him. He cringed, not expecting it. I held on tighter and asked quietly enough for only him to hear me if I could go to his room once she was asleep. He finally hugged me back, whispering that he wanted to talk to me anyway.

"What's the secret?" Shannon demanded. "Why're you telling secrets?"

Steve smiled and patted the top of her head. "Julia just told me your feet smell."

She batted his hand away and latched herself to my arm, her frown intensifying.

He wished us goodnight and left. As soon as he shut the door, she broke away from me and lifted her foot to her face. "My feet do _not _smell."

I clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid she'd wake someone up, and assured her she had nothing to worry about. Steve's smelled a hundred times worse. It was true anyway; whenever he or his friends took their shoes off, the stench flooded a room.

Satisfied with my answer, she rolled over and shut her eyes.

I pulled the covers up to her to shoulders and watched her doze off, wondering if Steve ever felt like this when we were kids. Shit, he was more patient than I realized.

xxxx

I lingered outside Dad's and Carol's shut door before I reached Steve's room. They were arguing something fierce. It was in hushed yells and murmurs, but I could still make out some of the words. Carol's at least. Hers were clearer and less slurred.

"I told you she wouldn't wanna hear it coming from me," Carol accused. "I shouldn't have to do this yet. You're her father, and she hardly knows me."

He said something along the lines of I don't listen to him anyway and that he'd probably make things worse somehow if he tried, and it sent my heart racing. If he wanted to give up on me that fast, how could he expect anything from me?

"Seems like Steve said something to her," Carol went on. "For Christ's sakes, why do you let that happen?"

"I've tried to stop it, but he makes it his business regardless of what I say," Dad yelled loud enough I heard it. "Might as well use it to my advantage, 'cause he ain't backing off anytime soon."

"You're his father," Carol insisted. "Talk to him."

"_I've. Tried_. We've fought so bad I even kicked him out a few times, and it don't make a bit of difference. He still oversteps everything. Especially where she's concerned."

It was more than a few times. A lot more than a few times.

She kept at him, berating him for lots of things—for nearly bringing the cops here tonight, for promising her he'd clean his act up, on and on and on. We'd all heard _those_ promises, and she shouldn't have fallen for it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and bolted away. I couldn't listen to this anymore.

I was out of breath when I made it to Steve.

He must've sensed something because he looked concerned the second he saw me. He even asked me what happened, but I couldn't answer. All I could think about was Dad... Not even Carol, just how Dad seemed so certain I was a lost cause. Well, it probably wasn't like that, but it felt like it, and it made Steve's accusation hurt all over again. I _wasn't_ like him. I swear, I wasn't. "What'd you wanna talk to me about?" I snapped, looking to my feet because I didn't wanna be here anymore. "Just tell me what you wanna tell me, or yell at me, or whatever you wanna do, and then I'll go back to bed."

Steve sighed. "Maybe I don't feel like yelling at you. Maybe I ain't that mad at you anymore."

I looked up. "Well, that's new."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he teased and held his arms out to me.

I hesitated and folded my arms awkwardly, no longer eager to leave, yet equally unsure I wanted to hug him.

"Okay, what happened?" he repeated impatiently, letting his hands fall into his lap.

"Nothing," I mumbled and moved for his door.

Steve caught my wrist and pulled me in front of him. "What happened?" he repeated a little louder. "Christ, you're acting strange."

"Just leave me alone then."

"No." He shook his head. "I dunno what the hell this is about, but no. All you're gonna do then is go back to your goddamned room and cry yourself to sleep, and then you'll just be crabby and bitch about everything all day tomorrow—"

"Steve—"

"Jesus, don't tell me you wouldn't," he kept on. "I ain't stupid. I know you better than that, so how 'bout you just tell me what the hell's wrong now, so we both can sleep?"

He looked and sounded sincere, so I stepped closer and let him hug me. I shouldn't have doubted him. Dad would've let me leave, but Steve didn't give up that easily.

xxxx

_Saturday, _January_ 7th, 1967_

Despite being "grounded", I found a way to get to Angela's. I asked Dad at breakfast, and he said yes, so I guess that meant I could. Carol was job hunting, and Steve had gone to Soda's, so the only person who protested was Shannon. She reminded me I said we'd play Barbies, and I promised her I would when I got home. I would too. The only reason I was leaving now was because I'd told Curly I'd come over. Angela needed it.

Dad offered to play with Shannon in the meantime. He used to do that with me; when we first moved back with him, he tried to braid my hair once with no success. He also tried to bake cookies with me and left the eggshells in the batter. Needless to say, he wasn't good at girl things. Likewise, Shannon wasn't impressed with his efforts. She cried and refused to let him entertain her, much like she'd refused to let Steve in our room last night. I felt guilty, but not too bad. Dad was being extremely patient with her in spite of a hangover, so there was no reason to worry. He wasn't the world's best father, but I could say without a hint of doubt he was nothing like her stepfather.

He stopped me just before I reached the door. "Julia, hold on."

I turned, unsure what to expect, so I didn't anticipate anything.

"I just want you to know I didn't forget about last night," he told me evenly. "I think we all did some stuff we ain't too proud of, so we'll call today a fresh start, but if you step one more more foot out of line, that's it. No more lucky breaks."

Didn't he say something along those lines just the other day? Though tempted, I didn't call him out on the hypocrisy. I just agreed to his "new" terms and left.

xxxx

"Hi, Julia. Bye, Julia." Curly stepped out the door the second I stepped in. "Be back in an hour. Have fun with Angela."

"Wait, what?" I whirled around and chased after him. "What the heck do you mean by that?"

"All praise Julia." He held his hands up and bowed. "I'm serious. Thank you. I owe you one. See you later."

Glory, he acted like I was rescuing him from Angela. Perhaps I was. I rolled my eyes and paused outside the door for a few moments before I went to look for her. Thank you very little, Curly, for throwing me into a shark tank.

I found her in her room, face down on the bed.

"Hey, Angela, you wanna do something tonight?" I asked. It seemed like a good place to start. She was always up for that.

She flopped over but didn't bother sitting up. "No, I don't wanna fucking do something," she growled, shoving her fingers into her hair and pulling at the roots. "Shut the damn door!"

"Why? I think we're the only ones home?"

She got up and pushed her way past me. "Ma ain't worked a full shift in a week. She'll probably say she's sick and come home early, and Curly'll be back for sure. Fuck her. Fuck him. Fuck y— _them_."

She slammed the door. The sound rattled through my bones, and she hurled herself back onto the bed.

I bit my tongue, reminding myself she wasn't mad at me, just life in general. She had stopped herself from cursing me directly, an act of sincere kindness in her current state.

I approached her slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, Angela, I wish I knew what to say. This is just shitty."

"What's shitty is Curly figured it out," she mumbled into the pillow, but loud enough to still be heard. "For a dumbass, he might be more of a genius than Tim."

My eyes widened. I wasn't sure what was more shocking—what she said, or the fact she was talking about it openly. Better yet, she didn't assume I had something to do with it. How the hell did he manage that? The relief was immense. He hadn't thrown me under the bus after all.

"I fucking hate him," she added, lifting her head out of the pillow. "He always figures everything out, and he's worse than Tim. Tim'd just yell at me. Big deal. Curly blackmails."

I curled my lip under my teeth. "How so?"

"Told me I had to tell him who the baby's dad was or else he'd tell our mom what he figured out."

"Oh shit, what's he gonna do to James?"

"I dunno, but he sure seemed excited about it and furious all the same," Angela lamented. "He was so mad, I couldn't even talk him out of it. I mean, don't get me wrong, he ain't _that_ big of a genius. Tim's in custody for knocking a guy unconscious with a busted liquor bottle. Among other things. And he's planning _this_ revenge? That goddamned son of a fucking … _cunt_."

I paled, not just at the message, but Angela's mouth amazed even me sometimes. She probably said it on purpose to insult her mother. I'd only heard that word a couple times. Once Steve said it about Aunt Rita, and I'd never seen Dad belt him so hard in my life.

"He said he'd be back in an hour," I said in hopes of changing the subject, only to realize a second later it wasn't changing the subject at all.

"I wish I hadn't told him," Angela admitted. "He probably wouldn't have told her anyway. He just said it to get it out of me. I know it."

"Probably," I agreed, remembering how he'd weaseled the information out of me.

"He better not. I mean, she'll notice anyway when I start to show." She gestured to her stomach, face reddening. "But I could still get my period. It's been this late _one _other time."

"You really should go to a doctor," I urged, even though I knew her answer would be the same.

"If they tell her …" Her hands shook as she spoke. "She'd probably make me go to one of those religious homes for girls who get pregnant. You know, where they keep you holed up and make you give it up for adoption, never to be seen again. That is if she didn't just boot me straight to the street... Got kicked out of the Catholic school, so why would this fancy home take me anyway? And she wouldn't want me here."

I grimaced. But her mother wouldn't be able to do those things when it came down to it, would she? I hoped not. I really hoped not.

The look on Angela's face told me she was as uncertain as me.

"Tim would know what to do," she said with conviction.

She was probably right, but there was no telling when he'd be back.


	9. Angela's Troubles

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Two hours passed, and Curly didn't show.

Two damn hours, and Angela hadn't spoken a word unless the three times she yelled at me to keep the door locked counted. Everything else was one-sided. _You sure you don't wanna do anything?_ Nothing. _You like being back in regular school? _Nothing. _Gee, you're really quiet today_. Nothing. _Can I bum a cigarette?_ Nothing. _Nothing, nothing, nothing. _

I was having a conversation with a wall, so I gave up and kept myself busy by piecing through her endless pile of magazines, most of which were probably lifted from various drugstores. There was no way she could afford subscriptions. God, I'd missed magazines. Rosie kept loads of them around, but I didn't think Carol was the type… She wasn't ugly by any means, but she wasn't runway model pretty either. She looked average, like a mom or something. Unlike Rosie, she _was_ close to Dad's age. Maybe I'd see copies of _Good Housekeeping_, but who wanted to read that when your previous stepmom read better things? Like _Vogue _or _Cosmopolitan_? That was one thing about Rosie I could miss.

"So Bryon told Candy we're still dating," Angela's voice tore through the silence.

I about choked on my own spit. "You mean you're actually gonna talk to me?"

She glared at me like she was trying to burn holes in my skull, but I couldn't help it. Her negativity was rubbing off on me. For Christ's sakes, I'd been locked in this room with her for two excruciatingly long hours, and everything I said or did got us nowhere. "You think maybe he just don't wanna be with her?" I suggested, and _damn it._ I couldn't pick the right words worth shit. For the ten millionth time, Curly owed me huge.

"Or _maybe_ he ain't really over me." Angela folded her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose. "Wouldn't surprise me none."

I lifted an eyebrow. "You over him?"

The skull-burning glare returned.

No, she wasn't.

Not in the slightest.

Her problem was she wanted all the boys while she waited on Mr. Right, but the laws of the universe didn't work like that. Guys wanted the girl who'd been with everyone, but not for keeps. I'd overheard one of Steve's friends say something like that a long time ago, and it seemed to apply to Angela's situation in all ways except Bryon kept coming back to her. He must've really liked her. That, or she had him fooled, and I'd put my money on the second.

"Jesus Christ, Julia, who's side are you on?"

"Yours," I moaned, which was only half true. It wasn't about sides for me. I didn't want a side no more than I wanted her to be in this mess in the first place.

She scoffed like she didn't believe me. "Well, thanks."

I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to pluck the hairs out of my scalp one by one. _Damn it, Angela. Damn it, damn it, damn it. And damn you, Curly, too!_ She shot me the same look she'd give me as kids when she'd sneer, "You're _supposed_ to be my best friend." She was the master of shaming people into doing things her way, but today, I couldn't put up with the bullshit anymore—couldn't pretend to be cool about this when it scared the living piss out of me. Being her friend was like waiting for an avalanche to strike every day. She was always going down— it was just a matter of how and when— and I could never stop it. Ever. Tim could … _maybe_. I didn't know. She seemed to think he was capable of miracles, so I guess that counted for something. Probably the only reason he still had power over her.

"Jesus, Angela, I can't—" I clamped my mouth shut, halted mid speech by a door slam. I panicked and turned to Angela. Her eyes were fixated on the door knob. "It ain't Curly," she said, and sure enough, her mother burst through the door a second later.

"Angela Grace Shepard, you been home sitting on your ass all day, and the house looks like a pig sty. Where's your damn brother? He ain't got a job neither… One of you coulda done something about this."

"Guess the lock don't work no more," Angela muttered. "Perfect."

Her mother narrowed her eyes and took three long strides to the bed. "Everything's broken around here, 'cause you an' your brothers could give two shits about your own home." She stabbed a finger at Angela and shook it. "Always slamming doors, punching holes in the wall. I wake up every damn day wondering what the hell's gonna go next."

"Probably the next boyfriend you drag over here," Angela said complacently. "One by one, they always go. Oh, Patricia, I wonder whose fault that is. Say, what number was Earl again? I always forget. Seven? A hundred? Wait, did George count?"

Patricia reached across the bed and yanked Angela to her feet by her hair. Thinking of Angela's mom by her first name was strange, but "Angela's mom" sounded worse. It was hard to picture her as a mother of three, much like a grandmother, when the way she'd grabbed at Angela's hair made her look no better than the girls Angela fought with at school.

"You never answered my question," Angela reminded, her curls still crunched tightly in her mother's fist. "Was George one of our _daddie_s or was he just a casual fuck?"

"When Earl comes home, you're gonna pay severely for everything you've said to me," Patricia threatened, tugging her fist down.

Angela flinched, but kept her composure enough to yell, "He ain't comin' home. He'd have to be half-retarded to want to."

"You better believe he is." Patricia was unrelenting and emphatic in words. "This is _just_ a temporary separation."

Angela was right. That was exactly what my father said about Rosie, and the "separation" morphed right into divorce.

"Well, excuse me for pointing it out, but it sure don't fucking seem like it." Angela grabbed her mom's hand and tried to pry her hair out of the fingers with no success. "He's gone, Ma. Better move on and focus on finding the new one. We all know you will, so go right ahead and whore yourself out again. You make it look so easy."

Patricia glowed red, equally embarrassed as she was furious. "You better watch it, Angela Grace."

"You better watch it, _Patricia_ Grace," Angela mocked back.

"I mean it, young lady. Your mouth is filthier than your brothers."

"I mean it all the same, old lady. Maybe you should've set a better example for me."

Patricia turned to me with an apologetic smile and asked in a forced kind tone, "Will you excuse us for a moment, Julia?"

At least she wasn't going to bawl Angela out in front of me anymore, but that didn't make me any less nervous. I nodded slowly—what choice did I have?—and glanced at Angela to give her as much more support as I could. She rolled her eyes and hurled insult after insult at her mother but didn't fight the pull as she was drug away. I could only assume she feared for the safety of her hair, but apparently not that much, because each utterance I heard was more offensive than the last.

After callling her a whore, I wasn't sure anything could be worse, and yet, she found away.

When I could no longer make our their words, I crawled under the blankets and tried to block out the yells by thrusting my head between the pillows. It didn't work. I could still hear the screeches, and worse, every hit. The walls were thin, and the sound was unmistakably from a belt. I felt sick to my stomach over the irony. Angela was apparently old enough to have a baby, but young enough to be punished by her own mother? _Thirteen_. Thirteen going on fourteen, but who cared about specifics. No matter how you looked at it, it was fucked up.

Christ, I wanted to scream. I should've said something on her behalf; anything instead of just nodding like an idiot, but how could I defend when she'd called her mother a whore? True or not, was that ever justified?

A sudden silence pierced my ears, and I pulled my head out of the pillows. Footsteps approached, and then as if nothing had ever happened, Angela emerged with a blank expression. No tears in her eyes. She wasn't even swearing under her breath. I stared at her, wide-eyed and awkwardly aware of the humiliation beneath the cold face. "You okay?"

She flipped me the bird and flopped onto the bed face down.

_Damn it, Curly, why couldn't you have come home when you said you would? _I rested a hand against her shoulder. She groaned and lifted her head enough to bitch at me. "I'm fine, Jule. _Really_."

"You sure?"

Angela huffed and moaned, like she was having a conversation with an idiot.

"I'm just tryin' to be nice to you," I said quietly.

She remained tense from head to toe, but her eyes softened a little. "Well, I'm better actually, 'cause maybe she'll finally leave me alone now that she feels like she's done something 'stead of waiting on fucking Earl to take care of all her problems. God, every time I say anything to her, it's Earl this, Earl that like that's supposed to make me listen when we ain't seen him in how long? Guess she finally grew a pair."

"Still," I started, but I didn't know how to articulate what I was thinking. Angela wasn't a problem. She was problematic, sure, but she wasn't _the _problem. The problem was her mom didn't know how to be a mother.

Angela collapsed her head back down. "At least she can't swing that hard," Angela muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. She was less embarrassed than she was the time Earl laid into her when we'd left the kitchen in shambles months ago, but of course she wanted to appear tough instead of admitted she was mortified.

I scooted closer to her and draped an arm around her shoulder. The gesture was hardly a bandage to anything, but I felt helpless leaving her be. No wonder she wanted to keep her secret a secret at all costs. I didn't blame her, and I'd quit urging her to see the doctor. She couldn't risk the chance he'd tell her mother when the bitch insisted on conducting herself like this.

Man, I was lucky with Carol. I realized that now. Trying to ground me wasn't all that bad when last night could've been a lot worse.

xxxx

It was another two hours before Curly returned, and by that time, Angela's mom was gone. She didn't say where she was going or why she was leaving, but she had been the slightest bit kinder to Angela the rest of the afternoon. She cleaned up the house herself and told us we could make whatever we could find in the pantry for supper before she left. Angela was right. Now that she felt like she'd done something, she would leave her alone.

"So what happened to an hour?" I asked Curly. "You said an hour."

"Oh, well, an hour's more or less two or three," Curly dismissed it. "Where's Angela?"

"In her room. I think she's pissed at you." It was true. When we heard the door open, she expressed no interest in leaving her room. I told her Curly was here, and she told me I could tell him to go fuck himself.

"Well, what's new?" he sighed. "Ain't like Angel's known for being pleasant."

I shook my head at him. This time she had reason to be unpleasant. "You _had_ to blackmail her? What good is it beating him up anyway? You'll just wind up in jail." Just like Tim, and the fact Tim was already there should be some kind of a warning to him, but I'd judged him too soon. As it turned out, he had different plans.

"Nah, I ain't beatin' him up," Curly assured me. "If I do that, it'll out the information to everyone. 'Cause people'll wanna know I had good reason to beat him to a pulp, you know?"

I nodded, impressed by his train of thought. He might've been an idiot in more ways than one, but he understood people and how they worked. Tim had to be jealous of that.

"Gonna make him wonder if I know for a while," Curly went on proudly. "Play with his head 'cause I can, and then I'll make sure he catches hell somehow. Believe me, he'll pay."

That was … awful and brilliant at the same time, and I'd have congratulated him on coming up with it if it weren't for Angela's scream.

We rushed upstairs to find her hoovering over her bed, staring at a blood stain from where she was seated. She pushed Curly out of the room immediately but let me stay.

She wasn't pregnant.

At least not anymore.


	10. Changing Tides

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Friday, January 13__th__, 1967_

The next several days were a constant haze.

I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. Everything was chaos … except it wasn't. Nothing horrible had happened since the weekend. If anything, good things happened. For once in his life, Dad went to work every day and Carol started working as a waitress at a nearby restaurant. I started working too—as Shannon's designated babysitter. Every day I went from my school to hers and walked her home. It took me forty-five minutes altogether, especially since she was extremely pokey, and when I'd gotten home Monday, I was ready to tell Dad and Carol I wouldn't do it a second day. I was outraged. Just because I was her sister didn't mean I should be _required_ to babysit. I understood why, I guess. We couldn't afford daycare, and why pay for daycare in the first place when I was old enough to watch her? Still, it was a huge change. I was used to being the youngest, used to rolling my eyes whenever Steve complained _he_ had to watch _me_, but when Dad asked me how it went, I kept my thoughts to myself. I'd been walking on ice thing since the night I snuck out, but really, it wasn't that bad. Aside from being pokey, Shannon was well-behaved for me—she was just overjoyed to spend more time with me and did whatever I wanted her to because I had newfound magical powers. I could lie, and she'd believe it. I could say anything, and she wouldn't dare question it, because everything I said or did was cool.

Besides, Carol offered to pay me. Granted, not much; just a teeny tiny portion of her tip money at the end of each week. That didn't matter though. For the first time in my life, I had an allowance. I'd heard of the concept before. Kids in school often whined about not getting their allowances as a punishment, but most of them were rich kids. Angela'd once joked her only allowance was not getting hit when she remembered to do everything her mother had asked her, so needless to say I wouldn't be telling her or anyone else where I got the money. If Angela asked, I'd tell her I stole it, but she probably wouldn't ask. She had too many other things swirling through her head.

Even though she'd just dodged the biggest bullet of her entire life, there was always something worrisome about her—_always_—and that was exactly the reason why I couldn't enjoy this amazing week.

How could I when with her back of my mind?

She didn't go to school all week, which served as a constant reminder of what happened. That night was the one thing I _could_ focus on when everything else was a blur. Every minute of every day I thought about what happened. I could still see the blood on her sheets and the horrified look in her eyes. I'd never seen her cry so hard, and Curly looked equally terrified. If he weren't so tough, he'd have probably cried along with her out of sympathy.

Angela later told me we were overreacting. That was the one time I'd went to see her this week. Sunday night. Not even a day after the ordeal, and she blew it off like nothing had ever happened. Said it was _just_ her period and I was acting like a mother hen, but I didn't care if I was. I didn't believe her. Sure, I knew nothing about miscarriages, but that seemed like too much blood to be an average period.

"Hey, Julia?" Shannon's voice pierced my ears.

I stumbled forward on a sidewalk crack, and my heart jumped as I tried to catch my balance. "God damn it," I cussed under my breath, realizing I wasn't paying attention to where Shannon and I were walking. "Uh, I mean, don't repeat that word."

She shook her head, wide-eyed. "Mommy hates that word, but don't worry, I won't tell on you. Hey, where're we goin'? Mommy would want us to go straight home. Are we going home, Julia? This doesn't look like the way. We didn't go here yesterday. Why aren't we going where we were yesterday?" Her face grew more perplexed with each question she asked. "Are we lost?"

I curled my lip under my teeth. No, we weren't lost, and it was just like her to ask two billion questions in one breath... We weren't lost. No, we were going to make a pit spot at Angela's and go home. I needed to see her again because what she'd told me Sunday night was bullshit. "We're just gonna stop at my friend Angela's for a second, okay?"

Her face lit up and she trotted alongside me with a skip in her step. "Can Angela be my friend too?"

"Um, yeah, sure." I grabbed her hand to keep her from running ahead of me. I should've said no. Angela didn't like kids. Thank God she wasn't having one, but what was I supposed to say? _No, Shannon, Angela's kind of a bitch?_

When we reached Angela's, I could hardly contain Shannon's excitement.

"Hi, Angela," she beamed the second Angela answered the door.

Angela looked at me as if to ask, "Who the hell is this kid?"

"Hey, sorry, Angel, gotta babysit my little sister everyday afterschool now," I explained. "I—"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Shannon interrupted.

I pinched her arm, and Angela started laughing. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I'm goin' on a date tonight with my boyfriend, Bryon. He's taking me out for my birthday. I'm turning fourteen."

So she was back with Bryon. Somehow I expected that, but it'd have been nice to find out another way instead of Shannon's incessant question asking.

Shannon scowled. "Boys are gross."

Angela smirked and planted her hands on her hips. "Believe me, you'll like them someday."

"Julia doesn't like boys."

I blushed and glared at her to shut up.

"Oh really?" Angela raised an eyebrow. "I think she does plenty. She's probably got tons of crushes she never tells me about."

Shannon looked anything but convinced and shook her head firmly. "Nuh uh."

Angela ignored her and turned to me. "Hey, you're welcome to come tonight if you want. It's not really a date. We're probably just hangin' out at the bowling alley."

I hesitated. "I'll, um, I'll think about it."

"Come here at six," she kept at it. "An' I'll let you borrow some of my clothes. We'll walk together. Heck, maybe I can even make Curly give us a ride."

I nodded and flipped my head to Shannon who was hanging on my arm. "I should, uh, probably get her home."

Angela rolled her eyes and started shutting the door. "See you when you get here."

She said it like it was a done deal, and ugh, I didn't _want _to go.

"I like her," Shannon declared once the door shut.

The feeling wasn't mutual. That was for damn sure, but at least Angela had been halfways decent to her.

I swallowed. Somehow it'd have been easier if she'd have been a total bitch. She was still pretending to be okay, and that recipe for a disaster later.

All I knew was I shouldn't go out with her tonight. Whatever she was planning had to be bad; it always was whenever she didn't want to admit she was upset about something.

xxxx

"So, uh, exactly how long does it take to walk home from school?" Steve's voice boomed from the couch.

_Perfect_. We'd just gotten home, and even though he'd hardly been here all week, he was taking it upon himself to lecture me for being a half hour or so past the usual time. "Well, maybe if you could still pick me up from school, it wouldn't take long."

That was an awful argument. Today it'd have worked out just fine, but he was picking up extra shifts at the DX whenever he could. It was like he was saving up for something big, and that scared me.

"We went to see her our friend Angela." Shannon smiled and nearly bounced up and down she was so eager to talk about it.

I glared at her in hopes she'd shut up. _Our friend Angela? _

Steve sat up and lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yep, and we're gonna go bowling with her at six o'clock," Shannon continued. "We're gonna have so much fun. It's gonna be the best night ever."

_Please God, make her shut up._ She'd heard a few things and got all the details wrong. I shook my head at her. "First of all, she didn't say you could come."

Her expression flipped from excited to crushed. "But she said it wasn't a date, so why can't I come?"

"Listen, I'm not even going," I tried to explain, but it didn't stop her lip from quivering. Damn it, I knew stopping at Angela's was a bad idea. Why couldn't five year olds be logical?

"But," she started.

"Damn it, we're not going, and she ain't your friend. She's mine," I snapped, and it was a bad snap at that. I could feel the lingering tension in my vocal chords from my yelling.

Tears strolled down her cheeks and she ran for our room.

"Shannon," I called after her, but she didn't stop running.

I sighed and looked up at Steve. "_Shit_."

Steve crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Anything she say true?"

"No," I shot at him,"so don't you even dare think about yelling at me. I just wanted to see if she was okay, and you already know why, so don't ask."

He did know why. I was so last weekend I spilled everything the moment he asked me what was wrong.

"I ain't lying about any of this either," I continued, growing more and more flustered. "I really don't wanna go. I just gotta think of a good excuse to tell her why I can't."

"I'll call her and tell her you can't," he offered with a shrug.

"No, she'll just think you're more of an asshole than she already does."

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and scratched his head. "You honestly think I give a shit what Angela thinks of me? Hell, you already know what I think of her."

Well, it was a solution… "Okay," I agreed reluctantly.

He nodded and grinned as he strolled over to the phone. Of course he was more excited about this than he needed to be. "What's their number?" he asked, picking up the receiver.

I closed my eyes for a second and rubbed my forehead. Did I really want him to do this? If I got bored later, I might regret it. It was Friday after all, but no, this was a good thing. If he did this, it would finalize my decision. I took a deep breath, spewed out the number, and scurried to my room so I wouldn't have to listen to the conversation.

Shannon was face down on her bed with a mess of sheets curled beneath her.

"Hey." I approached her slowly and sat down beside her. "Sorry about what I said."

"I thought you said she could be my friend too," she mumbled into the bed.

"Trust me, you don't wanna be Angela's friend. It's a lot of work."

She shook her head against the pillow, which made her hair stick straight up. Her hair was as nightmarishly frizzy as mine

"But, Julia I don't have _any _friends here," she moaned. "I had lots of friends in Kansas, and then Mommy made me move."

"I'm your friend."

"Nuh uh, you're my sister."

"I can be your friend _and _your sister," I suggested.

She shook her head against the pillow again. "You're the best sister ever, but sisters can't be friends, 'cause they're sisters."

I wasn't sure if that made sense, but I didn't get a chance to argue with her.

"Hey, can I break the 'no boys allowed' rule for a second?" Steve asked from the doorway.

Shannon kicked her feet down against the bed. "Okay..."

Steve approached her and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. "Don't be mad at Julia. The only reason she's not going is 'cause she knows I wouldn't let her. Be mad at me if you want, but not her."

I lifted both eyebrows. Why was he throwing himself under the bus?

He leaned across the bed and whispered, "Just go with it. She doesn't like me anyway."

Shannon sat up and frowned at him. "You're not the boss of her. I heard Mom talking to Dad, and she said you shouldn't be bossing her around."

My eyes widened. She was observant; I had to give her that. "Well, it doesn't bother me that much anymore," I asserted, but I had to think about it for a second to know if it was truly a lie. He annoyed me plenty whenever he got bossy and probably always would, but it felt normal enough now I'd stopped trying to use the "you're not Dad" argument against him. I'd never say those words on purpose again.

Steve patted Shannon's shoulder and stood up. "Trust me, this Angela is quite the bi—_bad_ person."

"Not a bad person, just a bad influence," I corrected him.

He rolled his eyes. "Same difference."

"No, people've said you're a bad influence, but I don't think you're a bad person."

"Fine, bad influence," Steve sighed. "But anyway, Shannon, it's for Julia's own good and yours, so deal with it."

"You're not the boss of me either."

"I'm almost thirteen years older than you. Plenty old enough to boss you around."

Shannon shook her head.

"What'd your mom say when she told you Julia'd be watching you?" Steve went on. "She said you had to listen to her, right? Well, Julia has to listen to me, so that means you gotta listen to me too, which totally does make me the boss of you, and as the boss of you, I say you can't be mad at Julia for a stupid reason."

"I'm not mad at Julia," Shannon affirmed.

"Then my work here is done," Steve said and winked at me as he exited the room.

"I don't like him," Shannon told me as soon as he was out of sight.

"He's a good brother."

Shannon didn't get it, and how could she? Steve was next to a stranger to her.

Hell, I was next to a stranger to her.

xxxx

"Hey, Julia, can I talk to you for a second?" Carol asked me after supper.

My heart thumped hard against my chest. Not because she sounded mad, but the opposite. She was nice, and I was getting used to her, but I didn't feel like having any deep conversations with her yet. Maybe not ever.

"I wanna talk to you a little bit about what happened last weekend," she explained.

I nodded, cringing on the inside. My mind went straight to Angela, though I doubted she knew about that. After all, I'd only told Steve.

"I just wanted to apologize for trying to ground you," she continued, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "That was going a little too far, and I'm sorry."

I shrugged and looked to my feet. "That's okay."

"You can tell me if it's not, you know. I'll understand."

I shrugged again.

"You sure?" she asked, her tone so kind, it was almost insulting. "It just seems like you've been a little upset this week, and I was thinking maybe it had something to do with me. Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable."

"Trust me, it's _not _you." It came out so fast, I'd nearly snapped at her. I swallowed and regained my composure. "It's my friend. She's going through a rough time, and I'm worried about her."

"Oh, I see." She nodded, absorbing the information. "Well, if you wanna talk about it—"

"No."

She smiled a weak smile. "Well, you certainly don't have to, I was just putting it out there," she corrected herself. "But if you ever want to talk about anything, I can guarantee I understand girl issues a lot better than your father and brother."

That was probably true, but somehow it was still easier to talk to Steve.

"Thanks," I struggled and inched away from her. "I'm, um, gonna go talk to Steve."

I hustled to his room then, feeling guilty. That was probably insulting to her, but it was where I wanted to go.

When I reached his door, I could hear the record he was listening to. Rolling Stones. Typical. I let out a small groan and knocked.

He turned the music off and opened the door for me. "What?"

"You going anywhere tonight?" I asked him.

He pulled me into the room and shut the door. "No, why?"

"I dunno, it's Friday."

He shrugged. "Got the night off. My friends are all working, 'cept Two-Bit, but he's got plans I don't need to be a part of, and Evie's visiting her sister in Oklahoma City, so I got nowhere to be… "

"You an' Evie back together for sure for sure?"

He nodded.

The relief was immense. Carol was nice, but knowing I could talk to Evie again if I needed to was better. "Hey, can I ask you something really personal about her?" I asked, chewing on my lip.

"Depends on what it is," he said, looking at me suspiciously.

"How long did it to take her to get over, um, you know, finding out she really wasn't pregnant? I mean, that she was pregnant, but then not anymore. " Why was it so hard to say the word miscarriage? I only asked because of Angela. Well, I cared about Evie too, but … ugh, this was awkward.

It was even worse for him by the way he looked at me. He ran a hand through his hair, grabbed my arm and drug me over to his bed where he sat me down beside him. That should've been my first clue this was about to turn into a lecture. "Look, it's not something you can just get over like that."

I bunched my hands into fists and nodded. I knew it was a stupid question, but I wanted to have some idea, because the way Angela was dealing with this didn't seem normal at all.

"Still thinking about Angela, huh?" he inquired.

"Always," I admitted. "What if she really needed me tonight? Maybe I should've gone. I mean, even if she did something bad, that doesn't mean I'd have to do the same."

In short, I was uncertain and miserable about it.

Steve shook his head. "No, don't second guess yourself on this one. You made the right choice."

I folded my arms uneasily. "_You _kind of made it for me."

"Yeah, but it _was _for the best," he stressed. "I've been saying it forever, but you really need to find yourself some new friends."

I frowned. Maybe Shannon was right. Maybe he was too bossy.

"She's hanging out with Bryon and Mark and their friends lately, ain't she?"

My frown deepened. "How would you know?"

"Pony's been hanging around them lately too lately, and you best stay away from them. Hang out with people in your own grade for a change."

"Angela is in my grade," I argued. "She was just held back."

"Oh, well, that's real assuring," he scoffed. "She'll probably drop out. You wanna drop out too?"

I hadn't given it much thought, but now that he brought it up, maybe I did. I was really beginning to hate school, so why not?

"You're not dropping out." He raised his voice up a notch. "Jesus, don't even think about telling me you'd considered it. I'm not dropping out and neither are you. It's one thing if you got a good reason to, but you wouldn't."

"Okay, then, I guess I'm not," I said crossly.

"I'm serious. You're staying in school, and you're staying the hell away from Bryon and Mark. Especially Mark."

I kept my head down, refusing to look at Steve. He probably was glaring at me. I could just feel it. "Mark's a nice guy."

He poked my arm to snag my attention. "Mark's plenty nice, but my little sister sure as hell ain't hanging out with him."

I sighed and looked up. He indeed was glaring.

"Ponyboy probably shouldn't be hanging out with them either, but definitely not you."

"Okay, okay," I agreed, just to shut him up, even though I knew he had a point. A really strong one too, especially when I remembered how, a little over a week ago, I'd seen Mark hand Angela that bag of grass.

One thing was for sure; I'd never mention that to Steve.


	11. Insomnia

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

As I stared at the ceiling desperately trying to fall asleep, I thought of Angela—where she was, what she was doing, how much havoc she was wreaking on the universe—but mostly I wondered whether or not I could prevent anything if I was there. On and on I played these head games with myself, and for what? Peace of mind? What peace of mind? Knowing that whatever she was doing I couldn't stop it anyway?

This was _not_ how I imagined the day I finally told her no. I was supposed to be as courageous all those famous dead people Mrs. Fox rambled about in History, not cowardly enough to let Steve do my dirty work.

Was thinking of me too? What did she think? Was she furious I didn't come? Or pissed at Steve for—

Wait, what exactly did Steve tell her? It occurred to me I never asked. I should've for God sakes. It couldn't have been pleasant. Lord knows he looked forward to it—_never_ a good sign with him—but what did I care? She was used to people telling her off, expected it, _wanted_ it. Besides, Steve telling her I couldn't go worked best for all involved. He got to tell her off, I didn't have to go, and she could blame Steve instead of me.

But, damn it, what _was_ she doing? Was it really a casual date? Was she risking pregnancy again right this very second? God, way to think of every gross detail, Julia. No one wanted to think about their friends like—

Ugh, I was only worried she'd wind up in a similar situation again, and I couldn't take this anymore. One thought running straight into the next, and every time I closed my eyes, I grew more restless. My legs itched like my muscles were erupting out of my skin, and the more I tossed and turned, the more the bed started to creak. It was a high-pitched whine that yanked me out of my head long enough to realize I might wake Shannon if I kept on like this. If the meltdown was anything like this afternoon, getting her back to sleep would be a nightmare, so I leaped out of the bed and crept for the door. I planned to hog the couch and turn the TV on the lowest volume for the rest of the night. If I didn't sleep so be it, but at least I'd be doing something. Except I never made it to the living room. Instead I found myself outside Steve's room, staring at the shut door.

It was a pathetic sight. Dozens of nicks and cracks had scratched the surface, and what was left of paint had peeled. The walls of the hallway looked no different, not to mention everything else in the house was equally in shambles, so it was odd it should stand out to me _now_ of all times when I saw the damage every day. I pressed a hand near the door knob, and the entire thing rattled in its frame. It'd been abused one too many times; slammed by either my brother or father on a near daily basis, it barely hung on its hinges now. I retracted my hand, and the quick motion rattled it worse. I clenched my teeth and fists. Jesus, what was I even doing? _Just_ _go back to bed, Julia. Go the fuck back to bed._

I heard footsteps and muffled swearing coming from inside the room and backed away. Now was the time to run, but I hadn't moved soon enough, or maybe I'd moved too soon and made more noise. Either way, the door opened, and there emerged a half asleep Steve, his hair a slimy, chaotic mess. I should be thinking about lots things, like escape, and here it dawned on me he spent more time on his hair than me. It brightened my mood, if only for a second. That was one more weapon I could add to my arsenal of ways to tease him. His hair was almost as sacred as his car, always slicked back in carefully up kept curls, and I decided it was bullshit he should bug me for wearing makeup when he obviously spent as much time primping himself.

He snatched the fabric of my nightgown's sleeve and tugged me inside. "The heck're you doin'?"

He flicked the light on and moved to shut the door, deliberating holding back from slamming it. I could see it the way his muscles twitched. "You gonna talk or what?"

"I didn't mean to wake you up. Your door is just really rattely, and I bumped it on accident," I said quietly, painfully aware how dumb it sounded. "I was just gonna go to the living room, 'cause I can't sleep."

"So just 'cause you can't and I can means you got a God given right to wake me up?" He threw his hands up and let them crash down to his sides. "That sounds like bullshit anyway, 'cause the living room is closer to your room than mine. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean, thanks. You know I wanted my alarm to go off at three AM instead of noon."

I took a deep breath, my shoulders rising and falling. "Sorry," I eeked out, chest tightening the moment the word rolled off my tongue. We'd made up since _that_ fight. At least I thought we had until the way his eyes flickered indicated my apologies weren't welcome. "I'll, uh, go back to bed," I said and booked it for the door.

Steve grabbed a clump of my hair. "Wait a minute." He pulled me back as patiently as someone could pull someone else's hair and whirled me around to face him. "You already woke me up, so I'll be damned if you go back to bed without explaining what the hell for. Any good reason? Or you'd just wanna remind me you can be as annoying as Shannon when you damn well wanna be?"

I shrugged. "Who says I wanted to wake you up?"

"I'm serious, what the hell is it?"

I shrugged again. Angela? I couldn't sleep? All things he didn't really need to be bothered with, because I honest to God realized I _was _being annoying. However, I also realized it'd be more annoying to cause all this commotion and then walk away without a word, so I had to think of something. "I'm sick of this whole family," I muttered, clasping my arms over my gut. That was his line, not mine, and worse, I was saying it just when I was beginning to like Shannon. But it was one of the thoughts keeping me up. One among thousands in my brain, but it might've crossed my mind a time or two between worrying about Angela. "How many other women has Dad slept with? We got any other siblings?"

I thought about Angela's mom. If his track record was as extensive as hers, who knew how many others there were. Shannon and Jack were two out of millions.

His nose and forehead crinkled in disgust. "Is it your goal to ask about everyone's personal life tonight?"

Ugh, I was just thinking aloud. I needed stop doing that.

"For Christ's sakes, Julia, you don't need to concern yourself with his love life. No one does."

I swallowed. The roof of my mouth was dry and my tongue prickly. What happened to TV?

My face blanched as the realization of my stupidity hit me in double. So no doubt waking him up made me a moron, but seeing as it was the middle of the goddamned night, each channel was off the air. I'd be watching static.

"I don't mean to talk about his … _you know_," I blurted. "I dunno, I get used it everything being one way. Then he changes it. He gets married to someone else or loses his job or I dunno, but I'm sick of it."

"Well, get used to that disappointment," Steve muttered, tone callous enough he might as well have yelled it. "That's the one thing that ain't ever gonna change about him."

I nodded and inched for the doorknob again. It was clear if I stayed a minute longer, he'd be shouting by the end of it.

"Hey, where you think you're going?"

"Back to bed," I mumbled.

He moved in front of the door. "Why're you really here? I mean, don't get me wrong, Charlie's a deadbeat, yeah, but it's always been that way."

I shook my head and shifted my eyes to his carpet. "I just … I just can't sleep," I said in vain. "Angela an' Carol an—"

"Woah, what about Carol? She do something?"

I shook my head. No … it was more me than her, but I didn't know how to explain it.

"Then what the hell are you complaining about?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists in an effort to stay composed. I wasn't sure if it was lucky break or the pressure of Steve's glare, but the answer came to me. I didn't _want_ to like her and she was making that hard. If I liked her, there was nothing but disappointment ahead. When she finally got sick of Dad, and it would happen, I'd probably never see her again. Shannon, on the other hand, was my sister, so even if they split, I might see her at some point… But I couldn't just say that without it coming out wrong. "Nothing, I guess."

In three seconds, his temper would ignite tenfold. Three, two…

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

No yelling. No angry pacing. No explosion. Was this the Steve who'd just pulled my hair?

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Well, since you ain't talkin', I'm gonna start guessing. You're mad I called Angela. That sound right?"

I frowned and glanced away from him, ashamed he might be the slightest bit right. "Could you at least tell me what you said to her?"

"I said you weren't feeling well enough to go."

"What?" I gasped. "You lied?"

He rolled his eyes and scratched his chin. "Jesus, what'd you think I said?"

"Something awful mean, 'cause you hate her."

The corners of his mouth rose, like he was about to laugh at me. "As tempting as that was, I figured a white lie might be a little less embarrassing to you, so you're welcome."

I didn't know what to say. He had an opportunity to be downright vicious, and he didn't take it.

"I just hope she isn't doing anything bad," I hesitated. "I mean, maybe I should try to stop it."

"You mentioned something like that earlier, and it's bullshit. If this is what you're keeping yourself up over…" He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "Listen, you can't control what she does. She brings her problems on herself."

"Maybe, but—"

"But what? That's the way it is."

I shook my head firmly. That made her sound like she was a lost cause, and she wasn't.

Was she?

He placed his hands on my shoulders, eyes earnest. "Look, I've played this game with myself before, and it's a bad one. Your friends are your friends, and you care about them and do what you can, but you can only do so much."

I hung my head towards the floor and shut my eyes. It wasn't just the random advice he spouted off, 'cause he wanted to be bossy; this was advice with experience behind it. I lifted my head and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you couldn't stop Soda from dropping out or racing Darry's truck."

"I wasn't talking about Soda." His voice was tight, and he pulled his hands back down to his sides. "He dropped out for good reason, and Darry's truck was plenty stupid, but ain't like it changed his whole life."

I breathed in a slow, shallow breath and looked at him expectantly. "Who're you talkin' about then?"

"Never mind, it ain't your business." He shifted his eyes away from me and rubbed his forehead. "Just remember what I said. You can only do so much. The rest is on her."

"Dallas?" I guessed.

He glared at me, the wrath in his eyes close to looks I'd seen him give Dad. "I told you it ain't your business."

There was no way he took his own advice. It should've been obvious from the get go, and to think of all the hours he'd spent beating himself up over things he could've done was surreal. Angela'd dodged a pregnancy, Dallas died.

He speared a finger at the door. "Damn it, just go to fucking bed already."

My hands started to tremble. I breathed in and out and took a huge gamble, stepping closer to him instead of leaving. I wrapped my arms around his waist and debated telling him it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't have done anything. That was the original plan, but instead, I just hugged him. "You're right about Angela."

I heard him exhale, and he returned the embrace. "You think?"

I didn't think, I knew. Still, it was easier to acknowledge I couldn't help her than to actually believe it.

Believing it was the hard part, and it only got harder, because nothing, not even this talk with Steve, could prepare me for what she'd done.


	12. This Thing We Call Friendship

_**WARNING**_: Highly sensitive content ahead. Nothing too graphic, but subject matter that might get a movie at least a PG-13 rating.

* * *

_Saturday, January 14__th__, 1967_

I reached the Shepard house first thing the following morning—before Steve woke up, before I could bother to ask Dad if it was okay for me to leave. It was nine AM. An ungodly early hour for the Shepard's, except for Tim who took advantage of whatever hour was advantageous to him, but funny enough, I found Curly sitting on their front porch smoking a cigar and wide awake. Something was up.

"You actually smoke those things?" I asked Curly as soon as he was within earshot.

"Well, good morning to you too, Miss Randle."

I tried not to scrunch my nose from the smell. "Hey."

"This here is Earl's probably." He lifted the cigar for me to get a closer look and grinned. "Found a box of 'em just laying around. Would you believe we got all sorts of remnants from that lazy pile of shit? Ma won't dare touch it. Oh no. Gotta save it for when he returns, right? Even the alcohol, but too bad Angel sure got her hands on that fast, and now I'm smoking up his cigar collection, 'cause I can."

"How nice of you two…" I crossed my arms to protect myself from the cold. Desperate to get here, I left with only a sweater for covering, and now thanks to that carelessness, I shivered from head to toe. The wind blew my hair around my face too. I let it happen, hoping Curly wouldn't notice how much the smell continued to bother me. It had to be sleep deprivation that had me this queasy. Stomach acid was crept up the back of my throat, and my head throbbed and throbbed. "Speaking of her, you know where she is?"

"Yeah," he sneered, as if the answer was obvious. "Upstairs in her room recovering from the wild night she had."

I nodded and zipped past him, only for him to spring up and grab my arm. "Leave her be."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"She okay?"

He glared and shook his head.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I ran through the possibilities. "What happened?"

"Damn it, you're persistent," he huffed, uncharacteristically bitter. "It ain't none of your business, okay?"

"C'mon, Curly, just tell me," I begged.

"Why should I?" he demanded back. "Like I said, it ain't none of your damn business."

"It is too my business. She's my best friend." I stomped my foot to the porch indignantly and matched his glare. "I care about her as much as you, so you better tell me what's up with her now, or I swear to God I'll—"

"What exactly is a little girl like you gonna threaten me with, huh?" he dared me, lifting an eyebrow. "You got a gun hidden in your pocket I don't know about? Just let it alone, alright? Take a few deep breaths. She'll be fine, and that's all you need to know."

I gritted my teeth, frustrated I couldn't think of a comeback.

"See you around, kid," he said in a patronizing tone as he shooed me off the porch.

I should've turned around and left, but I couldn't stand the way he was acting like a complete jerk when he _knew_ I cared about Angela. He didn't have to act like her secrets were sacred around me. Around anyone else, he could keep his trap shut, but _not_ me. He was probably just jealous I knew more about his sister than he did.

"You gonna go or am I gonna have to get mean?" He rested his back against the door and stroked his chin. "Hmm, let's see here. I could find myself another worm to stick in your hair. I seem to remember you screaming for a minute straight a couple summers ago."

"Shut up, Curly."

"Or how 'bout a spider this time? Yeah, a spider sounds alright. Tell me again now how youwere gonna threaten me? I'd love to see that gun. Oh wait, you don't have one?" He bared a self-satisfied grin and waved goodbye. "In that case, I'll see you later."

That was it. I'd use the only weapon I had. "I'll tell my brother you made a pass at me unless you tell me what happened to Angela."

He peeled himself away from the door and strolled over to me. "Shit, you really are her friend, ain't ya? She'd do something like that. Bend the truth to get me or Tim to beat some guy to a pulp. By the way, I ain't scared of your brother. He ain't as tough as he thinks he is."

"Neither are you," I shot back. "None of you guys are."

He laughed and shook his head. "Excuse me, but what the hell do you know about being a guy?"

"Well, you just beat on each other to show off, and all it proves is you're a bunch of insecure assholes."

Curly didn't default to laughter this time. His face reddened and he hopped off the porch to tower over me, much like Tim would if he wanted to intimidate someone. Usually Curly took shit as well as he dished it out, so I felt at ease teasing him, but I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't race.

"Insecure asshole, huh?" he questioned. "Well, I could give two shits whether you think I'm insecure or an asshole, but I ain't spillin' my kid sister's secrets without good reason. Not even to you. I mean it this time. Go home."

He stepped away, but his demeanor remained the same.

"Didn't you say you owed me one last week?" I pointed out desperately. "Well, I didn't sleep at all last night, 'cause I was worried about her. Besides, I was the one who told you about _you know_, wasn't I?"

He massaged his temples between his fingers and sighed. "Alright, alright, you win, but we ain't talkin' out here," he gave in and motioned me for me to follow inside. "C'mon."

Once inside, I heard the commotion from Angela's room and dove for the stairs.

He pushed himself in front of me and ushered me to the kitchen. "Just ignore that."

"She okay?"

"I already told you she's fine. Let's just say she's intoxicated, but she'll be fine. Our mother's taking good care of her, believe it or not."

"But if she was drunk, shouldn't she get be hungover by now?"

He shook his head the same way Steve did whenever he thought I was asking stupid questions. "It ain't alcohol."

"But didn't you say she's recovering from a wild night?

"Yeah, as in she took something else, but I dunno what."

"Grass?" I guessed.

He pointed a finger to the ceiling. "Grass don't cause that. Just listen to it for a second and tell me if you think a simple joint could cause that."

I sucked in a breath and listened. He was right. They weren't the same angry insults she tossed at her mother on a daily basis; they were out of genuine fear. My knees collapsed and balanced myself against the kitchen table. "You sure? When I smoked it with her once, it made me feel pretty weird. What if she smoked it and drank at the same time?"

"You ain't got a clue what you're yapping about." Curly closed fists at his sides. I could tell he was getting more and more annoyed with my ignorance, so I slunk into the nearest chair and held my tongue.

"Trust me, I've done enough to know it's mostly harmless."

"Mostly harmless?" I wondered aloud.

"I ain't giving you a lesson on drugs here, damn it," he hissed and smacked his fist against the table. "I dunno what the hell she took, okay? I mean, got a pretty damn good idea, but if you don't know what's out there... Forget it, I'm done with this conversation. Like I said, I ain't giving you a drug lesson. Get the hell outa here already. I already told you too much."

"Fine." I stood up and drug my feet away from the table.

"Wait," he called after me.

"What?"

"You got any idea who might've given her something like this?"

I paled and shook my head. I saw Mark give Angela something a couple months ago, but that was just grass, and if Curly thought that was harmless, what did that matter? He didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd do anything else. He was best friends with Bryon, and Bryon certainly wouldn't. Hell, Bryon seemed frustrated with Angela whenever she drank too much... Besides, who's to say Angela didn't seek it out herself? She probably had.

"Yeah, me either, but you keep this secret, savvy?" He ran a hand through his hair and nodded like he trusted me. "She didn't start going nuts until _after_ she got home. Probably took it then for all I know, so if you keep your trap shut, no one has to know except us."

I nodded. I would. If Steve heard this, that would be the end of the end of my friendship with Angela as I knew it. This would officially be the last straw.

"One more thing before you go," he piped up again. "She and Bryon back together?"

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"Good," he grunted. "Can't believe that smug dork don't realize how bad she's playing him, but he's better than the others. James… he's a real piece of work. Dunno why Tim ever let him in the gang. Least he's a good fighter. Probably the only reason Tim kept him around."

"Julia, what're you doin' here so early on a Saturday?"

Curly and I both jumped at the sound of his mother's voice.

"Curly, go keep an eye on your sister, and quit smoking Earl's cigars," she yipped at him.

"But I wasn't—"

She clocked upside the head. "You were too. I already told you I don't care, but he will, and he's coming home this week."

Curly rolled his eyes. "Uh huh."

She reached out to smack him again, but he'd darted off and started up the stairs.

"Angela's sick, hon, you might wanna come back another day," Patricia said quietly.

"It's okay, I understand."

She forced a smile and turned her back to me to pick up the phone.

I clammed up, afraid she was phoning an ambulance.

She fumbled with the receiver as she tried to dial the number, dropping it three times.

She glared at me and waved her hand for me to leave as the phone rang.

I scrambled away, but before I reached the door, I heard her wail, "Can you please come sooner? We need you here now. Today."

It was Earl she'd called.

I loitered by the front door to hear the rest of the conversation; at least her end. It sounded like he'd agreed to come, and I made a dash for the stairs to warn Curly.

"What the hell're you doin', you nosy little shit?" Patricia boomed behind me. "I told you to come back another day."

She grabbed my ear and drug me outside. "Go home," she ordered, pointing her finger in the opposite direction my house.

She stood there cross-armed, watching me close as I hustled away.

"I _am_ leaving, okay? No need to watch me," I screamed back at her, more annoyed that she still thought Earl was the solution to their problems than another else.

I paused and stared, wondering if she'd bother scolding me, but she just turned around and went back inside.

xxxx

I ran the entire way home and panted for air the moment I burst through the door.

Carol noticed my presence and approached me. "Julia, where we were all morning? Your father never said a word about you leaving."

That was because I didn't ask him, and I didn't need this right now. "I just … went to … a friend's for … a little bit," I explained.

"You could've told one of us." She was starting to get the same strict tone about her she had when she'd tried to ground me. Same disapproving scowl too. "And why aren't you wearing a jacket

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't say anything and excuse me for forgetting a jacket, but it was only for a little bit, and for a good reason." I gasped, stunned I'd managed to spit it out in an entire breath, but my triumph fell flat.

"You don't have to talk to me like this," she warned and pulled me back when I tried to escape for my room. "I just asked you a few questions out of honest concern. There's no need to get snippy."

Damn her for sounding logical. She was right. I was being rude, but it wasn't on purpose. At least I didn't think it was. I was a mess after hearing about Angela and I needed time to myself to process it; without her interference or anyone's.

"You can't just come and go whenever you feel like it," she started in again. "You have to—"

"Well, I didn't wanna wake anyone up, okay?" I found myself hollering at her, despite the urge not to. If she could see how upset I was, she'd know I was only arguing with her because I was on the verge of bawling.

"Julia … Julia Randle," she scolded, sounding frustrated she couldn't produce my middle name.

"Leave me the fuck alone," I spat and tore my arm out of her grip.

I made a successful break for my room and slammed the door.

The impact of the slam rattled through my body, and I nearly fell apart. Oh God, I didn't need to do that. She really was just worried about me… I shoved my face into my pillow and screamed.

The door swung open, and I shot up, expecting to see a furious Carol, but instead it was a concerned Shannon.

"What?" I moaned, ever mourning the loss of my privacy. Sharing a room was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

She ran over to me and pounced onto the bed. "You're making Mommy really mad," she whispered loudly.

I rolled my eyes.

"So, so, so, so, soo mad," she continued. "Don't do anything else, or you might get a timeout!"

Ooo, a timeout? Oh, of all the things to be afraid of. "Thanks for the heads up."

"If she does give you a timeout though, stay in the corner or else you'll get in worse trouble," she instructed carefully, voice laced with fear for my safety. "I mean, so bad you'll probably cry."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

Her eyes widened. "You'll get a lickin'."

"I probably won't," I said, so certain of it I almost laughed at her.

"She might tell Dad, and you might," she warned me. "Good thing my old daddy isn't here. He hits a lot harder than Mommy, and sometimes, if you're really bad, he makes you take off your clothes before he does."

I swallowed, ill to think of how often that might have happened. Thank God I hadn't laughed. Now all I wanted to do was sob. She said it like it was a common, normal occurrence, like she was petrified this could happen to me. No wonder she didn't want me to get in trouble.

"Does our dad do that?" she asked, eyes wiser than they were a second go.

I hesitated, wanting to promise he'd never hit her, but unsure I could trust good ol' Charlie to never lay a hand on her. "Never like that," I said. That much I _could_ guarantee.

She hugged me as tight as her small arms could squeeze me. "Don't worry. I'll tell Mommy you said you're sorry."

One of these days I was gonna tell her mommy wasn't my mommy, but I didn't have it in me to crush her will to protect me. Especially not if it made her feel better, considering what she'd just told me.

I mean, Carol probably would tell my dad, and he'd yell at me until he was hoarse.

And then she'd yell at him because he she didn't intend for him to treat me like that.

And then they'd just fight, and fight, and fight until he finally divorced her too.

But none of that ever happened.

Carol said nothing when he got home, and she was nothing but kind to me the rest of the weekend. It was as if she planned to punish me by killing me with kindness, and it was brilliant because the guilt was worse than any punishment I'd ever endured from my father.

xxxx

_Monday, January 16__th__, 1967_

I started off my Monday in Mr. Hanson's office. They were irate I'd skipped out on our detention time, which I'd all but forgotten until, of course, they bothered to remind me. "C'mon, Mr. Hanson, I have to babysit my little sister after school. You think I can help that?"

"No, but you can help your attitude."

Two minutes into this meeting, and he already had a strict teacher tone going. I wasn't sure when or how it happened, but somehow, I'd gained the ability to piss people off as fast as Steve. I rested my hands on my thighs and dug my fingernails into my skin to keep from mouthing off. Why was it so hard to be polite? It used to be easy.

"I've about had it with the way you've been acting, Miss Randle," he rattled on. "I'd expect this kind of behavior out of your brother, but a young woman like you should know how to conduct herself in a school. Your mouth is atrocious. You should be ashamed of yourself."

I hated those words. They always reduced me to feeling like shit. My eyes darted off, and I picked at my nail beds, hoping this lecture would end soon.

"Now I understand that you have obligations to your family, so I'm willing to cut a deal with you," he proposed, much to my shock.

I looked up attentively and nodded for him to continue.

"I'll forgive your detentions if you come in early for tutoring," he said. "I already told you your friend Rachel was willing to help, didn't I? I think this could do you good. You need to get your grades up. If you focus on your studies, I think it'll keep you out of trouble."

That was great except Rachel wasn't my friend. She wasn't, damn it. She fucking wasn't.

"So what do you say?"

_No, no, no, and no_. I'd rather die than associate with her after what she'd done to me.

"Like I said, this is an excellent opportunity for you."

I grimaced. This was a horrid idea, and yet, no detention was enticing… "Okay."

"Great, I'll inform her you'll start tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mr. Hanson," I said as earnestly as I could fake and excused myself from his office.

_Don't think about it_, I told myself as I shuffled my feet through the hallway. _Just go to class and don't think about how much you'll wanna strangle Rachel goddamned Mathews tomorrow_.

Angela cornered me before I reached my locker. "Jule, I need to talk to you."

And Mr. Hanson had just forgiven my detentions. What the hell did she want now? "Can we talk just a little now and more after school?" I begged.

She shook her head and pulled on my arm. "C'mon, I promise it won't take long."

If it weren't for what had happened this weekend, I'd have said no, but she needed me.

When we reached the dumpster, she couldn't stop fidgeting, looking awfully anxious to talk to me about whatever this was. That should've been my first clue this was about to get bad.

"I know about what happened this weekend," I told her, hoping it'd ease her nerves a little bit. "You don't have to explain it."

She breathed a sigh of relief and shoved a bag of something in my pocket.

"What the—"

She clapped hand over my mouth and swatted my hand when I tried to reach into my pocket.

"Earl's back, and I can't risk having it around anymore," she explained, voice just above a whisper. "He'll kick me out or something, and now that I ain't pregnant, James wants nothing to do with me."

"Having _what_ around?" I asked, voice muffled by her hand.

"It ain't much, I promise, I just need you to hide it for a while," she said urgently. "It should be easy for you. No one'll suspect anything when it's you."

"Why don't you just ask Curly to do something with it or something?" I suggested. "Jesus, Angela you can't expect me to do something like _this_."

She shook her head fiercely. "If I had other options, don't you think I'd have considered them first?"

"What in Heaven's name are you two ladies doing out here?"

I flinched and turned to see a female teacher I didn't recognize standing ten feet away from us.

"Go now, and I'll distract her," Angela whispered in my ear.

I curled my lip under my teeth with hesitation. I had a choice at that moment—I could toss whatever was in my pocket at the teacher's feet and tell Angela exactly what I thought she could do with herself, or I could run and figure out what to do later.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Freeman," I heard Angela sneer behind me. "I almost didn't recognize you you've gotten so fat."

I ran.


End file.
